


The War

by niruesie, NoHappyEnding



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, NHE2017, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 70,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niruesie/pseuds/niruesie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoHappyEnding/pseuds/NoHappyEnding
Summary: When you fight, sometimes, you fight against yourself. This is the war he does not want to lose yet he does not think he will be happy if he wins.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** 2016-71  
>  **Pairing/Main character(s):** Baekhyun/Chanyeol  
>  **Word count:** 70,139  
>  **Rating:** NC-17
> 
>  **Warning(s):** Conspiracy Theories, Mentions of real countries, Major depiction of violence, Betrayal, Character Deaths
> 
> Author's note: borrowed some plot elements from Victoria Aveyard’s Red Queen and Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief. Happy reading!

 

******

_I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory_

_When’s it gonna get me?_

_In my sleep? Seven feet ahead of me?_

_If I see it coming, do I run or do I let it be?_

_Is it like a beat without a melody?_

 

~ _Alexander Hamilton, My Shot_

_Hamilton, The American Musical_

******

**THE PEACE TALKS**

_Pentagon, Virginia, United States of America_

_Day 035 of the New World; 14:25 PM_

In the mundane world, Kyungsoo is late. The meeting has started.

He sits in one of the chairs at the back, looking like one of the delegates. With his black polo tucked in his black pants, long black coat reaching his knees, and his neatly polished black leather shoes, he perfectly blends among the people whose souls are as dark as his clothes.

He lets out a weak sigh as he fishes out his golden pocket watch.

 _18:13 minutes_.

He also brings out invitations and reviews them carefully, eyeing the people whose names are written in the cards.

The hall is big enough to hold thousands of people but only fifteen of them are seated on these golden chairs. An enormous round table rests in the middle, neatly stacked papers lie atop.

There are two people standing in the large dais. Kyungsoo wearily looks at the petite old woman in her black formal dress and a man in an expensive-looking white Tuxedo. The back of their left hands, specifically in the skin covering the bones of their thumbs, have three tiny slits. Tiny as these _lines_ are, they are embossed in the skin that if one would spare time to look longer, he would notice the _mark_.

“I can’t believe I have to watch and hear all this garbage. Why do I always arrive before the time?” Kyungsoo rants under his breath as he rolls his eyes at the man in the podium when he starts to speak.

“Today is the fifth week of the New World Order,” the man says, loud and clear. The man is in his middle fifties though his wrinkles are hidden in a massive beard, enclosing his mouth. His voice is solemn as he addresses the crowd of palaces spokesperson, prime ministers, presidents, and delegates of the powerful nations. There is a dangerous impression lingering in his tone. “As your country is called, please report your status including the measures done by your government. You have two minutes,” he thumps the gavel on its wood to signal their start.

“Thank you, Mr. Rose child. First country, United States of America,” the petite woman says.

“We started to advance our control in the Weather Systems. Cloud seeding over New York and the rest of the West Coast will deter possible infiltrations. The success rate of these clouds going to East Asia is more that 70%. Considering the possibility, we can weaken the forces of strong rebel groups.

“Also, Artificial Weather has been launched last week. The clouds with microscopic computer particles will act as a catalyst to determine the number of those people injected with chips. Those who do not have it will also be identified and will be arrested. As of the moment, 74% of the surviving population, including the elite groups have been implanted and are monitored and tracked. The documents about all their transactions will be forwarded immediately to your office after this conference. Of the remaining 26%, 11% has been arrested. 9% have been killed in the process of investigation. 6% are still unidentified and remains as an outlaw. Search parties are sent to address this issue.”

“Thank you, USA Representative,” the woman speaks again. “Next, China.”

 _Approximately 15 minutes_.

“The government has been successful in destabilizing poor Asian Countries with the promotion of Cashless society. This compelled them to trade their natural resources and accept big loans from China, Japan, and South Korea. With a weaker economy, their governments force their people to implant chips so the trading systems between neighbouring countries will continue.

“Documents will be submitted after this conference to show the status regarding the Microchip Implant in Asia. According to our intel, the chip insertions is significantly slow in Vietnam, East Timor, Thailand and Cambodia compared to others. But Japan, Singapore, South Korea, and Philippines has been the slowest as the rebels are strongest in these regions. As of now, only China and North Korea has been able to surpass the 90% Microchip Implant Project.”

Kyungsoo sighs once again as irritation boils inside him. “Disgusting,” he comments. He glances at his pocket watch.

 _13 more minutes_.

“Thank you, China Representative. Please proceed, North Korea.”

“The missiles are secured and will be safely transported to United States and China if the need arises. Also, like the control weather systems, we are successful in simulating earthquakes. This has weakened many of the rebel forces in South Korea and Japan. Those captured are given the chance to accept the chip. If they do not agree, they are immediately executed publicly. This method has also been effective to the nations with strong spiritual beliefs. It propagates fear and lures them to be _marked_ as their way of salvation.

“We don’t have much trouble in infiltration because propagandas forwarding the New World Order are strong. But a significant number of our people are fleeing the country. Intelligence group says they go to the South, Japan, Singapore, and Philippines. Countries with strong resistance against the New World. We propose to take carefully measured actions against these countries to address the issue. With these nations having the lowest number of _marked_ people, we cannot deny losing them will not bear much impact in the New World. Besides the elite families are mostly from America and Europe. It will not weaken the economy nor disturb the balance of powers.”

“Thank you very –” the woman is cut off when Mr. Rose child stands up again. A devilish grin in his face.

He clears his throat before eyeing the representative of North Korea with much enthusiasm. “Brothers, a proposal is served before you in a silver platter. Would you consider North Korea’s suggestion of erasing these _races_ in the pages of our history? By the way, North Korea, can you elaborate further your _carefully measured actions_?”

“Thank you for the acknowledgement Mr. Rose child. Sending a nuclear weapon to these countries will be the easiest solution. It will address our issues on infiltrations, terrorism, and rebellion. Also, it will instill fear to others who still refuse the New World. This year will end with only one government standing.”

“I have always thought terrorism and government are on the opposite sides. Now, they are almost synonymous to one another. Well played,” Kyungsoo says, clapping nonchalantly.

Soldiers find their way to Kyungsoo’s place, marching silently in a straight line. As they near him, he plasters a smirk and inches a foot forward. A soldier trips, causing him to push the other before him.

“Watch it, Smith!” The commander spits.

“I trip over something.” Smith eyes Kyungsoo but his gaze passes through him. Kyungsoo just smiles when he sees the shocked face of the soldier as he realizes there is nothing to trip over.

“Pull yourself together. Secure the premises and be vigilant. Protect Mr. Rose child at all cost.” The commander orders with a tone of finality and fear.

Kyungsoo shifts back again at the conference as he grabs his pocket watch again.

_Seven more minutes._

The South Korean representative has been speaking for a while now. “… is not enough. Maybe we should reconsider the wipe out of these races. The South Korean government is doing everything in its power to have its people receive the chip. Sending missiles will only aggravate the situation.”

“What do you say?” Mr. Rose child asks. “Do you agree? Tell me your thoughts. Alright, China Representative.”

“We cannot deny that South Korea is an influential nation. Maybe it is right to give them more time to persuade their people by whatever means. They have good training in defense and we can use that to our advantage.”

“Thank you. What about your thoughts, Russia?”

“As much as we want to address the issues on rebellion immediately, we have to consider the strengths of these groups who oppose the New World. According to our intelligence group, they have spies inside this government and a powerful nation funds them. Missile launching is not one of the carefully measured actions we should take against these countries.”

“Mr. Rose child, forgive me, but can I intervene?”

“Yes, of course. Go and speak, North Korea.”

“As much as I admire their merciful thoughts, I am afraid that no one offers a better proposition to address the matter. We humbly forward to launch these missiles as soon as possible. Firstly, so we can lessen and weaken these rebel groups. Secondly, to compel the surviving population to accept the chip. In this way, they will see the strength of the New World and no one will dare question our capacities again.”

Kyungsoo mumbles before standing up to inch closer to the stage. “Alright, North Korea. Thank you for giving more work.”

“However,” The North Korean representative continues. “That missile will be the last to be dropped. Afterwards, the government of these countries have the liberty to do the next _careful_ steps for the surviving population. After all, we need people for _Riddance_. That is our proposition.”

The conference is cloaked with silence. The representatives of South Korea and China shake their heads in defeat, eyes full of fear. The others smile in agreement.

“Very well said, North Korea,” Mr. Rose child smiles with all his teeth flashing. “Without further ado, I move that this proposition be done in three days after this conference,” he thumps the gavel once more. “Please forward a written document and submit it to the office of the Secretary of Defense of America.”

Kyungsoo takes a last look at his watch before putting it inside his coat securely. He mirrors Rose child smile. “Two minutes.”

Mr. Rose child claims the mic once more, with a look of defiance in his face. “Before we end this brief conference, it has come to our attention that two people who are present here are guilty of treason against the New World. Step forward and we can lessen your punishment. Refuse, well, _death_ awaits for you.”

“That’s the most wonderful point you told with this whole garbage. I’ve been waiting since sixteen minutes ago,” Kyungsoo sighs. He continues walking towards the representative of South Korea.

“On the count of three, stand up,” Mr. Rose child eyes the crowd, beaming devilishly. The people before him struggle to swallow the lump on their throats. “One,”

Silence together with tension hovers over them.

“Mr. Rose child?” The American representative looks at him in fear. “I think –”

“Two.”

“At least tell us their names.”

Kyungsoo continues to walk, nearing the people he ought to deliver.

“Three,” Mr. Rose child smiles once again, his eyes never showed a look of remorse. “Shoot.”

They hear one gunshot but two bodies fall. The people hold their breath. No one blinks an eye.

“Lee Soo Hye, South Korea,” Kyungsoo says.

“He-help me. Please. Save me,” Soo Hye pleads breathlessly. He extends his arm to touch Kyungsoo. “Wh-why am I seeing red?”

“I’m surprised you are seeing red,” Kyungsoo mutters, sounding indifferent as he deems these people are not worth any remorse feeling from someone. “I’m seeing silver.”

One bullet was fired and it went inside Lee Soo Hye’s head. His brain explodes as it passed through his right eye and a silver sticky liquid oozes out from the hole, then another stream from his mouth, like he swallowed mercury.

“It’s the _mark_. Help me,” Soo Hye mutters, air leaving his lungs, his eyes are almost closing.

Kyungsoo grabs his hand and pulls him out of his body. A dark shadow hangs on his shoulder as he walks to the old petite woman, lifeless on the floor.

He also _pulls_ her out. Her soul hangs on Kyungsoo’s other shoulder. “Time to go to the other side.”

“The war has ended; Silver is the new red. One world, one government. Death for those who dissent.”

Kyungsoo hears them chanting the what-they-called Silver Manifesto as he walks out of the hall to deliver the souls.

“Silver is the new red? Humans, what have you done?”

 

***

 

**THE CELEBRATION**

The soulful melody of the piano comes to a halt then the claps and cheers of the crowd follow. The room is packed with so many people, each with colored drinks in their hands. Some are dancing and swaying to the melody, some settle themselves on the couches and stools. The air is heavy with the tang of alcohol and grilled meat and soft conversations of triumph and victory. They all feel it in the atmosphere.

“What do you think?” The son of District V governor approaches him with a smile. He sits in a stool beside him, giving him a toast.

He accepts the wineglass and brings it closer to his lips, inhaling the scent. “Santa Carolina, Gran Vino?” He identifies.

The other chuckles. “Your knowledge on these wines always surprises me.”

“Yixing, in this life where parties and bilateral meetings are part of our daily routine, my father will kill me if I don’t get to memorize these drinks.”

“Then I’m surprised you are still alive. How are you and your father, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol grimaces at the sudden turn of their conversation and knowing full well that this is beyond wine tasting. “Civil. He can’t force me to do things. Anyway, what do I think about what?”

“Will you receive the chip?” The other asks, sipping his drink and trying to sound nonchalant.

“My father is stubborn but no. I won’t. He should let me have it my way.” A tug pulls inside the young general as he rolls off the words. Chanyeol loves his father _so much_ but he cannot just abandon more important things to please him. Starting to feel off, he goes back to the topic. “What do I think about what?”

Yixing puckers his lips at the three people who are on stage. “Them. They’re quite famous in the districts.”

“They have a good voice in my opinion, which is actually an understatement. I’m very particular at the one in the middle. He’s so noisy,” he rolls his eyes, bringing the glass on his lips once more. This time, letting the drink burn his throat. He grimaces at the taste.

“Intel says they participated in the rebellion. Should we address the issue or just let it be?”

“We won the war. I don’t think there’s a need to aggravate the rebels. We all got what we wanted.”

“Chanyeol, I think by this time you understand that it is foolishness to believe that the war has ended,” Yixing voice is melancholic but Chanyeol did not fail to note the danger lingering behind his words.

“I know. But let _them_ think we won the war. There is no satisfying move than to surprise your enemies.” He smiles but his looks are lethal.

“Them as in the rebels? Or them as in the New World?” Yixing furrows his brows, throwing the young general a meaningful look.

Chanyeol thinks for a moment, letting his lips touch the rim of the glass. “I think we both know who our enemies are.”

“Your father is on the other side. How do we deal with that? Both you and him know that it is not yet the end,” Yixing looks around, barely glancing at Chanyeol. When he speaks, there is menace in his words. “The war is just starting, Chanyeol. We have to be vigilant. And by vigilant, I mean to be _literally_ aware of your surroundings. You have invited _enemies_ inside your home.”

Chanyeol eyes the crowd and with a painful heartbeat, he realizes that Yixing is right. There are people who awkwardly blend in the crowd. They look like silver bees, murmuring on their mouthpieces. They stand near the entrance, hands on their belts, as if getting ready and aiming with one snap of fingers.

Yixing identifies them. “Spies.”

“Secure the premises,” Chanyeol orders on his phone, lightly pressed in his ears. “There are silvers inside. Make sure we won’t make commotion. We can’t risk the lives of these people.”

“District V troops are waiting for your signal, General Park,” Yixing’s tone suddenly becomes serious and distant as if they were never friends. “Say yes and we will attack,” he whispers as he puts down his own glass in the countertop. His tone is the calmest and it precariously soothes Chanyeol.

“Calculated risk?” The young general shortly asks. His heart starts to hammer against his chest, feeling the rush of a possible encounter.

“No innocent fatalities, we can promise. But we are not sure about the collateral damage when it comes to panic and stampede.”

“Other measures?”

“We take them one by one outside. Confiscate their weapons and arrest them. But there are possibilities of escapees. We can’t afford that.”

With a pounding heart, Chanyeol eyes the crowd once more. All of them are celebrating in their own ways. People have gathered on the dance floor, almost no people on the couches. They grind to the rhythm. The room darkened as another song plays. The lights blink black and white.

_Lonely nights_

_Miryeo eoneun neol makeul su eobnun saebyeok_

_I padosorie_

_Nan ddeonaeryeoganeun jungin geol oh no_

“Who are these rats? Rebels?” Chanyeol spits, his eyes glaring.

_I hear you, I feel you_

“No, they are from our government. They came –”

“Good evening General Park,” Yixing is cut off when another man arrives.  “Mr. Zhang,” he acknowledges him after. “Pleasure to meet you here. Lu Han of District II.”

Chanyeol stands up to greet another close friend. After shaking hands, they enclose themselves in a tight hug.

“Good old friend. What brings you here?” Yixing smiles, shaking his hand formally.

Then Lu Han reports the same thing, “Government spies are inside. District II troops are surrounding the building,” he gets himself a nice drink in the counter as if their subjects is a mundane thing.

Chanyeol smiles triumphantly. His eyes display pride and in that instant, his heart melts and warms at the loyalty of his people, of his friends. Not in him but in the common good. “Why are they here?”

“Rebel group members are here,” Lu Han states.

Yixing also intervenes. “Yes. And they have smuggled drugs inside. Reasons to have arrests.”

“The rebel group smuggled drugs here?” Chanyeol’s tone rises in incredulity.

“No,” Yixing clarifies. “Spies brought the drugs inside. The war ended, at least this is what they believed in. They don’t have sufficient evidences to arrest these people accused of treason. So they brought the drugs inside. Besides, the crowd is packed with unmarked people. It makes us an easy target.”

“The new world must be so desperate,” Chanyeol laughs in pure mockery. “Are we sure about their numbers inside?”

“A total of six people. There are ten outside. All armed,” Yixing reports.

“Recheck their number. The New World don’t send these kinds of awkward numbers. It’s either 15 or 20.” Chanyeol looks at the crowd, trying to count them himself. “Alright. The fifth district can help me here inside. Second district, the rats outside are your responsibility. I highly discourage shoot to kill but if the circumstances arise, so be it. But leave one or two alive. We need an interrogation after this.”

“Alright. Distract the people,” Lu Han salutes playfully, also setting his own drink on the countertop after a big gulp.

Emptying his glass, Chanyeol glares at the men in Silvers. “I’ll gather the people in the middle. Yixing and his people can freely maneuver over these rats. We have supplies of tranquilizer in the back. Make sure no one can see you hitting them in the neck. Gather them all in the basement. Got it? No one can escape. We can’t afford them reporting back to their mother pest.”

Yixing stands, dialling numbers in his phone and Lu Han turns to leave. Soon enough, Chanyeol sees men in white slowly entering the hall. _District V_. He also sees Kyungsoo making his way to one of the bar stools on the back, fashioned in black from head to toe and it made Chanyeol stifle a laugh. “Since when did Kyungsoo learn to wear black?” He asks but immediately shuts the question off to focus on the matters at hand.

Chanyeol has faith in his friends. Though adrenaline rush pounds heavily in his veins, after all they have went through, he has already learned to trust and to either remain genuinely calm in situations such as this or hide the tension inside him.

The song just ended by the time Chanyeol reaches the podium and the three singers bow in his direction, acknowledging his presence.

“Good evening General Park,” the one in the middle greets him and Chanyeol smiles. “I’m Byun Baekhyun.”

“Good evening, Sir. Thank you for inviting us in your humble abode. My name is Kim Minseok.”

“And I’m Kim Jongdae, Sir. Pleasure to perform and entertain your guests.”

“Welcome. Thank you for accepting my invitation. I hope you are enjoying your stay here. Can you, uhm, sing a more… how do I say this, a dramatic song? A soft melo, something like that.”

The crowd falls silent, gaping at the four of them. So Chanyeol addresses his next words to his audience. “Can we all have a partner? Let’s get lost to their next song. We’ve been partying all night, I’m sure we all need some slow tempo to cool us down.” The crowd smile at him and quickly, all of them have found partners.

“Excuse me,” Chanyeol clears his throat. “Byun Baekun, right?” He grins at him dangerously and he makes sure the other boy sees it in his eyes. _Danger_.

“Baekhyun, sir. Yes, that’s me!” The boy shows him the brightest smile and Chanyeol struggle not to fly his hand over his eyes to shun the light coming from him. It is not the reaction he is expecting.

“Can I have this dance, with you?” Chanyeol mirrors the same smile and spreads his arms open, inviting Baekhyun in.

Chanyeol sees him eyeing his friends and biting his lips to suppress a smile. “Who can say no to a general?” He says afterwards. He lets go of the mic and walks to him, his hands automatically snaking around his neck, destroying some distance. His full height reaches just Chanyeol’s ears. The taller chuckles as his eyes feasts over Baekhyun’s soft brown hair.

“Number one, I am not yet a general. Two, you can say no to me,” Chanyeol smirks, his own hands groping the other’s waist, securing him in his hold. He breathes Baekhyun in. Though the alcohol is present in his scent, Chanyeol did not fail to inhale the sweetness and hardness of his perfume. It intoxicates him.

He is about to ask the brand of his cologne when he hears a faint shot. He eyes the crowd anxiously, afraid that they heard the same. But they are lost in the song and in the voices of Jongdae and Minseok. Their drunk and happy faces show that they do not have the faintest idea of what could be happening outside.

He sees Yixing, poking the neck of a man in the farthest side. The man immediately slumps back unconscious and two of his people carry him towards a door leading to his basement.

“They address you as the general. We should show the same respect, Sir.”

Chanyeol ignores his comment. “Look,” He tightens his hold and brings him closer. Their chests touch, feet almost stepping at one another. Chanyeol brings his lips closer to the other’s ears. “There are government spies inside and they are here for you.”

Baekhyun flinches. Hard. He puts his hand on Chanyeol’s chest to push him a little away. Their eyes meet, Baekhyun’s with worry and Chanyeol’s with concern. “Excuse me?”

“I know you are a part of a rebel group,” Chanyeol places his own hands atop the hands on his chest. He brings it to his neck once more, removing their distance. He feels Baekhyun’s smooth hands and he struggles to ignore the fluttering in his heart. He wonders if it is because of the tension outside or the one in front of him. He has never been too close to a boy in his entire life. Chanyeol shakes his head as if to clear his mind.

_Focus, Park! Damn it!_

“Are you accusing me?” Baekhyun asks, his tone tainted both with disdain and uneasiness but he did not protest at the other’s gesture.

“No. Because I’m telling the truth. But whether you are a part of that group or not is not the important thing here. We have the same cause. I don’t believe in the New World just as much. We’re on the same side.”

Jongdae and Minseok continues to sing and the crowd continues to sway. Chanyeol does not have much to worry about. _Not yet._ As long as they remain unaware of the operations inside and outside.

His gazes land on Kyungsoo soon after. He watches him grab a hand from a fallen body, as if urging the man to stand up. Kyungsoo staggers back, patting his own shoulder then turns to leave like nothing happened. Chanyeol finds it odd.

 _What has his friend been up to?_ Chanyeol asks mentally and makes sure to talk to him afterwards. He is supposed to gather more documents and not stay here. Kyungsoo should be doing another task rather pulling up a wounded Silver.

“What are you trying to do then?” Baekhyun’s voice eases a little but his tone is strained and determined. “What is this? You invited us to trap us? Is that it? We have many people inside your home general. I don’t want _red_ blood to tarnish your floors.”

Chanyeol huffs, his lips quirking upward in mockery. “The first and the second district troops are here. My troops are here and the government spies who are after you are here. So maybe you are right, we don’t stand a chance against your forces.”

Baekhyun travels his hands down to Chanyeol’s chest again. He grins wildly, throwing the young general a flirtatious look. His fingers draw circular patterns in his neck then to his shoulders then his arms. The general shudders under his light touches. “You don’t know our capacity, general. Surely, it is not good for you to underestimate that.”

Chanyeol hitches his breath yet he succeeds in hiding that. “I am not underestimating the capacity of the rebel groups. And surely,” he plasters the same grin. “You do know how to flirt.”

Baekhyun huffs too. “We know many things. That’s why we have survived this long without being revealed,” his fingers brush away a strand from Chanyeol’s eyes as he parts his lips open. “I am asking you again, general. What do you want?”

“I want a distraction so these people won’t know the operations outside and inside this very moment. The fifth district are here, knocking the spies unconscious and bringing them in my basement. The second district are clearing the fields outside. These people don’t have to know. I told you, we have the same cause.”

“Why should I trust you? Everything the _government_ told us was a lie,” Baekhyun spits like the very word is bane in his mouth. Yet his smirk never leaves his beautiful lips.

“Trust me because I trusted you. And I’m not part of the government,” Chanyeol captures his smooth hands again and places them on his neck so he can he can think straight. “You have beautiful hands, Byun Baek.”

“Beware. Beauty is a dangerous thing,” he pokes Chanyeol’s nose with a finger before resting his hand back safely in his shoulders. “I can give you help but I’m not sure about the trust.”

“What kind of help?”

“Distraction,” Baekhyun smiles _dangerously_ at him. His eyes are nothing but cunning. “A kiss? What do you say?”

Chanyeol gulps down and Baekhyun sees it. The rebel smiles wider. “Wait, you want me to kiss you?”

“No, I want distraction as much as you do,” Baekhyun clarifies with a teasing tone.

“I’m straight, if you don’t mind me saying.” Chanyeol clears his throat, feeling a little uneasy. He wanders his eyes everywhere except in the two glinting brown orbs burning his inside.

This time, Baekhyun is not able to contain his laughter so he laughs with his heart’s content. “Here’s the thing,” he starts. “Your heart pounds when I placed my hands in your chest.”

“It’s because of the music. The rhythm. The beat, I mean.”

“And you stutter.”

“I don’t know what it is called. Forgive me,” Chanyeol responds a little too quickly and Baekhyun crinkles his eyes in delight.

“You flushed when I touched your neck and your shoulders and…” Baekhyun wets his lips with his tongue. His eyes never leave Chanyeol’s.

“I’m drunk. Alcohol,” the other smiles triumphantly, thinking he can get away with this.

“General, you asked me to dance with you. Then you asked me for distraction. Maybe you should return the favour. That’s what diplomats do,” Baekhyun plasters a grin, urging him to surrender.

Chanyeol is about to argue when another shot is fired. This time a little louder that the song is not enough to muffle the noise. Some are still distracted yet the others throw glances outside. He hears gasps and queries about what it could be. Then he sees Baekhyun, head turned away from him, mouthing silently to the other singers to continue singing.

The melody switches into a more upbeat and soon enough, the crowd is lost once again. Chanyeol notes that Jongdae and Minseok are already aware of the clearing operations.

“So what do you say? The offer is still up,” Baekhyun massages Chanyeol’s temple then he combs his hair with his soft fingers.

“Just this once,” Chanyeol swallows a lump forming his throat before wetting his own lips. His heart races again.

“I won’t say that if I were you. So it’s a yes?”

“I thought you’re just noisy. You’re also one hell of a flirt.”

“Oh!” Baekhyun chuckles as he inches his face closer to the general. “I am so many things.”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol spits before he closes his eyes and presses his lips on the lips of noisiest thing on earth.

Chanyeol is not moving at first. His heart is in his throat and time has frozen his body. He feels the other smile in his mouth before Baekhyun moves his own lips to taste and bite Chanyeol’s. The crowd is still lost in the song and Chanyeol is losing himself at the tastes of the rebel’s mouth.

The young general has kissed and has been kissed in his 24 years of existence but the lips he had captured belonged to women. Most of those kisses are driven by lusts and wants and frustrations brought by his responsibilities. This time is no different. He feels lust burning his core and giving life to his length. Baekhyun should have felt it standing and poking his but he makes no comment about it. However, Chanyeol feels that this is more intimate and more fiery and more caring about what he needs. He feels selflessness at the clashes of their hungry lips. _Weird_ . _Odd_ . _Addictive_.

He dives deeper in Baekhyun’s mouth, traversing his own tongue across the other’s bottom lip to ask for an entrance. Baekhyun wastes no time and opens his mouth more. Chanyeol hears another gunshot as he places a hand between Baekhyun’s shoulders, pressing the boy closer to him. Then another gunshot as Baekhyun travels a hand to capture Chanyeol’s face, the other fist balling in his hair.

“You taste good, general,” Baekhyun says breathlessly.

Smirking against his lips, Chanyeol counters, “You smell good, rebel.”

Chanyeol intoxicates himself with Baekhyun’s sweet yet hard smell. He pleasures himself with the way the other tastes against his mouth, his tongue. He gratifies his lust as their hard lengths poke each other. He never felt this much in years. He tilts his head, to give Baekhyun more access on the deepest part of his mouth.

Baekhyun stifles a moan that only Chanyeol hears and they are both electrified. Soon, they hear the gasps of people, their shouts. But not at the gun shots outside. They are cheering for the both of them.

Chanyeol does not want to end but Baekhyun breaks away when he runs out of oxygen. When the general opens his eyes, he sees another innocent smile coming from the rebel. His lips swell and glisten against the stage lights. Chanyeol gives him another kiss. This time a soft and long peck. He inches away from the boy, mirroring the same smile. The crowd coos louder.

Chanyeol looks at them and sees that there are no more men in Silver standing awkwardly. His smile widens even more when Yixing finds his eyes and raises a thumb up. “I think it’s done,” he whispers in Baekhyun’s ears, unaware that his arm is still snaking around the other’s waist.

“What happens now?” Baekhyun queries.

“Nothing. The party continues. Go on with performing. I need to check the troops,” Chanyeol orders, inching away from the rebel.

Baekhyun stops him, hands enclosing a hold in his arm. “Bring me with you.”

“No.”

“I thought you trust me.”

“Yes. But it’s too risky. Besides, you don’t trust me.”

“Believe me, I know what I’ll do. And give me time to establish that mutual trust. Please, general.”

“I think you are getting too comfortable,” Chanyeol eyes Baekhyun’s hands in his arm.

“Sorry,” Baekhyun lets go but his eyes still display that irresistible puppy look, “Please, I want to be with you.”

Chanyeol looks amused, he furrows his eyebrows and asks, “You want to be with me?”

“In checking for the troops and these spies. Don’t get too comfortable, general,” Baekhyun smirks, teasing him. “I need information too.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes before exhaling. “Fine. Come with me.”

When they descend down the stage, Baekhyun quietly trails behind him, eyes down. They are welcomed with congratulatory remarks and wishes and hopes that their relationship will last. They are rendered speechless so they just smile as genuinely as they could.

“They thought we are couples,” Baekhyun says when they are out of the buzzing crowd.

The silent hall embraces the both of them, though the noise from the party hall is still resounding, it is faint and distant. And it is quiet enough for both of them to ask whose heart is beating loud and wild. Chanyeol feels his ears might bleed.

“What do you expect them to think after kissing that intense –” Chanyeol cuts himself off. He does another roll of the eyes when he hears Baekhyun’s chortle.

“So you think that was intense.”

“You always have something to say. Why is that? It’s irritating.”

“I’m beginning to think you like that kiss, general. I thought you’re straight?” Baekhyun teases again.

Maybe it is the alcohol. Maybe it is Baekhyun being so noisy or maybe it is the tension that Chanyeol does not think about the next words he says. “Shut up or I’ll kiss you again.”

“Woah there. Feisty, young general. Is that a threat or –”

One moment they are just walking peacefully then the next second, Baekhyun’s back hits the wall hard as Chanyeol pins him down. The general’s hands pushes the rebel’s shoulder, rendering him helpless.

He rants. “I have never encountered such a noisy thing my entire life.”

“Yeah. Because all you did is talk to these people who speak nothing but empty promises of peace and security and progress. Tell me, since when have you been dealing with real life? Do diplomats even know the word commoner? Wait, commoners are introduced to you as rebels, right?” Baekhyun’s eyes harden, cheeks getting red. Chanyeol shudders at the thought that maybe it is not because of _alcohol_ anymore.

“See? You always have a say to everything,” Chanyeol looks him straight in the eyes. He feels and inhales Baekhyun’s breaths fanning his face.

“Answer me.”

“I think it’s the third time I’ll be telling you that I don’t believe in the new world.”

“You still think we are terrorist,” Baekhyun counters. His eyes are with disdain again.

“There is only one terrorist. It’s the new government. You think I don’t know?”

Baekhyun laughs scornfully. “That’s the worse, you know. You know something yet you are not doing anything. Be doers of the word, not hearers only,” he alludes. “People are dying every day, general. I thought you said the war has ended?”

“I think you should understand the weight of what our enemies can do. These are not ordinary people. We are ganging up against the new government. You can’t expect us to bomb them directly and believe that world peace will follow.”

“One of the greatest paradoxes of life. We have to fight in order to have peace,” Baekhyun is back with his innocent eyes looking directly at Chanyeol’s.

“I know. But we have to choose the fight we’ll get ourselves into. Not all battles are worth dying for.”

Baekhyun closes his eyes as he heaves a deep breath. His leans his head on the cold hard wall, looking deflated and the gesture surprises the general. “I’m tired of the war,” He murmurs.

“Me too. So why don’t we just enjoy the night first? Finish what you started.”

“What?”

“Finish what you started,” Chanyeol’s voice is now hoarse, his breathing is ragged. Unable to contain the lust burning his core.

“Fine. I’ll give you _this kiss_ but promise me your allegiance. Allegiance to us. Against the new world.”

Chanyeol captures rebel’s lips once more with his, earning a melodious tone that burns his entire body. “Deal.”

 

***

 

**THE FIRST MISSION**

“Who sent you here?” Chanyeol queries, his tone is flat and deadly.

The room is too bright for the liking of all people in the basement but no one makes a comment about it. Fifteen people huddle in the center, sitting cross legged. Their hands are tied behind their backs. The confiscated weapons are hidden safely into one of the vaults.

Lu Han, Yixing, and Baekhyun are seated in comfortable chairs beside Chanyeol’s. The general paces back and forth, circling the captured spies.

“You can’t kill us. Once we are killed, the new world will be notified. They will immediately bomb this building. Don’t think too full of yourself, general. You have so much more to learn rather than to ally yourself with these pathetic rebels,” he throws the other three a dirty look.

Baekhyun laughs inoffensively. “I won’t use the word pathetic if I were you.” His eyes crinkle in delight once more.

“Baek,” Chanyeol cautions him and the other falls silent instantly. “Who says about killing you? If we want to kill you, I should have ordered it right away,” the general smiles, his footsteps echoing against the floor boards. “Now, speak. We can’t kill you, I know that. But we can torture you. Unless the New World developed a program that details the physical, emotional and mental status of its _pathetic_ members.”

“We will ask you again,” Yixing intervenes. “Who sent you here?”

“We don’t talk to rebels,” another man answers him and Chanyeol does not fail to hear the meaning behind his words.

“You should. Now,” Lu Han responds as he produces a black whip from his pocket.

“The South Korean President is as desperate as the New World,” a man in the middle replies, starting to spill. He receives nudges from the others but he continues nonetheless. “If the people remain stubborn and refused to obey the New World, the elite families will bomb us. All of us.”

“Thank you for that information. But who exactly in the hierarchy sent you? What do they want?” Baekhyun asks this time with much enthusiasm and still in his playful tone.

“General Park sent us here.”

“What?” Chanyeol’s eyes widen. Suddenly, his mouth becomes dry like a parched land. “My father?”

“The New World works in hierarchy as mentioned by the rebel,” he eyes Baekhyun. “We receive orders from your father who received an order from a higher authority. That’s how we work.”

“Where is he now?” Chanyeol queries. His heart thumps wildly against his chest as he gapes at them in complete disbelief.

“He is awaiting for our responses. He does not know we have been captured.”

Chanyeol immediately barks orders. “Tell your friends, Baekhyun, to continue the party upstairs for more hours. It will raise suspicions from my father if the party ended and this scoundrels do not report back immediately. Yixing, continue to secure the premises. As for you Lu Han, send half of your troop to the other districts and ask for reinforcement. Just in case.”

The three waste no time in dialling and typing on their phones to deliver the messages. Once they are done, they keep their phones away to start interrogating again.

“Tell us about the hierarchy,” Yixing commands.

It takes them a good minute before someone answers. “The rule of Six. Generals to Statesmen to Senators to Representatives to Elite Families to New World. Generals to control security, Statesmen to control the people, Senators to control the politics, Representatives to control the media, and the Elite to control the economy.”

Another man speaks, reciting their manifesto. “The war has ended; Silver is the new red. One world, one government. Death for those who dissent.”

Baekhyun throws another question. “Silver is the new red? Meaning?”

“Once we are marked, our blood turns to Silver.”

“Is that in a literal sense or you are just being poetic? Like Silver being a royal color,” Baekhyun elaborates. The creasing of his forehead and the gestures of his hands against the air ease Chanyeol’s tension a little. The general almost wants to laugh.

“Literally and figuratively. Those who don’t get marked are outlaws in this society. You are stripped from all the privileges of living. If the New World can take your name from you, it will,” he threatens, throwing another disgusted look at the three of them.

“Now I’m wondering, general,” Lu Han starts, “How to get rid of these rats without notifying the New World?”

“Bury them alive, perhaps?” Baekhyun suggests, excitement lingering in his words. “Let’s find a place farther here then bury them alive. Don’t worry, the rebel group will take the responsibility. Your name is safe, General.” He smiles at Chanyeol.

“You are safe now. But not for long. Even you, son of General Park,” the oldest-looking man threatens. “You can kill us but no one can stop the New World.”

Chanyeol pouts his lips, making him look like a lost puppy. He places his hand above his heart to add a dramatic effect. “I’m saddened by the fact that you won’t live that long to see the New World crumbling down. And my first name is Chanyeol, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

“General,” Lu Han addresses him. “Kim Joonmyeon of District IV is here already. He has twenty-five men with him.”

“Go and meet him upstairs. Then bring them here. Tell them about the plan of burying these rats alive.”

“No! Please, Sir. We told you what we know. Please don’t kill us,” some of the men plead.

“I’m sorry. As much as I want to save you, you doomed yourselves by accepting that chip. There is no other means of salvation,” Chanyeol says indifferently yet he knows deep down, him killing these men will forever haunt him. He phone bleeps but even before he can read the message, he hears gunshots. “What’s that?”

“Xiao, District II. Report! Over,” Lu Han speaks in his radio.

The voice that comes is a buzzing like a radio which has not found the right station. It takes some few minutes before they can hear clearly and the screams of people dominate the background. “Sir! The place is under siege. Government side. Over.”

“Fatalities? Over,” Lu Han asks, dread in his voice.

“No casualties on sight. District IV troops are here, Sir. Over.”

“How many spies? Over.”

“Around fifty, Sir. Over.”

Chanyeol produces a gun and aims at the oldest man. “Who are they this time?”

“Don’t answer him,” a man beside him says, look of contempt and disgust in his eyes.

Chanyeol pulls the trigger and the oldest man hits the floor with a loud thud. His eyes were open as blood oozes down at the back of his head, coloring the floor _silver_.

“What the –” Baekhyun grimaces at the sight. “It’s really silver. What did the New World do? Make you swallow mercury?”

“Your turn,” Chanyeol speaks, eyeing the man beside the body dangerously. “Who are they this time?”

“We are 16 when we came here. You only captured 15. The other one is left upstairs. It’s either he is dead or he escaped.”

“He can’t escape. No one can,” Yixing says, two guns clutched by his hands.

“So he must be dead. The New World was notified,” Baekhyun mutters, also producing his own pistol. “I need bullets, General. If we are to counter the attack upstairs,” he chuckles and it makes Chanyeol smile. For a moment, he wonders how the rebel can play childish at times like this.

“Lu Han. Is there any way to get the scumbags out of here?” Chanyeol asks, regaining his focus.

“Joonmyeon and his troops are on their way here.”

Chanyeol walks toward a cabinet and produces pieces of thick cloths and bullets. “Gag them. In case Joonmyeon doesn’t get here first.” The four of them tied the captured mouths shut. “Baek. What’s your gun?”

“66 Magnum, General,” Baekhyun happily answers as if reciting a correct answer.

“Here,” He passes him two belts of pellet. “Where are they?”

Footsteps going down answer the general’s query. The three of them stand, shock and fear momentarily flash in their eyes before their minds tell them to ready. Chanyeol presses his back flatly on the wall to hide away from the entrance. Baekhyun is on the far side, acting as Chanyeol’s vision. Lu Han and Yixing aim their guns at the door, hiding in two of the cabinets. Only the gagged captives are in the middle of the room, squirming and grunting.

Chanyeol reaches for the light switch and turns it off. Only the yellow bulb on the entrance remain lighted. He hears hushed whispers loud enough to suggest that they are the enemies. Chanyeol waves frantically at his allies, gesturing a gun sign toward the door before putting a finger in his lips.

Baekhyun nods. His eyes are more serious, all childishness and playfulness gone. Yixing barely manages to breathe.

Lu Han talks to his radio once more in a shushed voice and barks command. “We need back up. Basement. Point of reference, stage. Eleven o’clock.” He reveals their location.

“Welcome to our first mission together. Goal, stay alive then save the rest,” Chanyeol smiles warily as his breathing begins to sound heavy against the silence. There are few more heart beats before they feel the door carefully opening.

“I don’t think someone’s here. You need to find the general’s son and deliver him safely. Kill the rest.”

Chanyeol hears nearer footsteps. He signals once more directly at Baekhyun. The smaller responds with his palm up in the air, saying that are five people to attack. With the general’s one nod, the lights open once more, shocking the reinforcement troops sent by the government. “Now!”

Chanyeol does not know which gun fired first but if he is correct, three shots echoed in the room and three bodies fell instantly. All he knows is that his own Five-SeveN pistol smacks the hand of his chosen enemy and he staggers back. Chanyeol takes the advantage to shoot, aiming at his opponent’s legs, injuring him badly, spurting sticky silver liquid. He quickly takes his gun away and turns away to help the others.

Two more of the reinforcements came inside. They busy themselves in attacking the rebels, the others set their captives free. Chanyeol runs toward the door and locks the knob. Back pressed against a wall, Chanyeol extends both his arms, aiming at the freed captives one by one. He closes his right eye for a better accuracy. He shoots. A body fell, thumping hard on the marbled floor, squirting silver. He fires another and the bullet buries itself inside a thigh.

The room is nothing but red and silver and gunshots and grunts. Nine people more.

Bullets fly everywhere considering their close contact and the room being not large enough to hold a gun field. Holes decorate the once neatly painted walls. He sees Baekhyun’s shoulder has been hit, red blood streaming down his arm, staining his polo but the other boy seems oblivious about it as he shoots two more men.

Seven more people.

Lu Han abandons his gun. Soon, his deft hands clutch two blades which he swings back and forth as an offense. He is surrounded by three people, ready to shoot him dead. Chanyeol steps in, one of his bullet hits one man in between his eyes and his blood spurts on Lu Han’s face. The latter takes advantage of the shock registering in their system and attacks, burying one blade on a man’s chest then at the crook of the neck of the other. They choke in their own _silver blood_.

Baekhyun fires again and once more until all the enemies are fallen. Some dead, some unconscious, and some writhing in pain.

“You will pay for this rebels!” A man who got three bullets in his legs and thighs curses.

“We will,” Baekhyun says with a tone of finality. “But remember, you have a larger debt to pay,” he says and pulls the trigger, silencing the man forever.

Chanyeol approaches them. “Anyone hurt?”

“We’re all good,” Baekhyun beams at him again, as if nothing happened.

Chanyeol huffs, “Says someone whose shoulder is bleeding.”

“Whose should… ouch!” Baekhyun whimpers. He sits down to check his wound. “It’s just a scratch, though. But it burns.”

“Stay still and don’t move. I’ll attend to you shortly,” the general utters. “What’s going up there, Lu Han?”

Lu Han brings his radio near his lips and speaks, “How are things there? Over.”

“Nine more reinforcements to kill, Sir. Over.”

“Fatalities? Over.”

“Five, Sir. Over.”

The four of them widen their eyes. Terror wash their faces. No one blinks an eye, all of them hold their breaths as Lu Han rolls off the next question. “Whose side? Over.”

“Five innocent casualties, Sir. Over.”

“Who are they?” Baekhyun’s face has gone whiter than he already is. “Names. Ask their names!” He stands up, knees shaking. “Let it not be any of my friends. Please. Let them be alive,” he repeats the words like a mantra.

Chanyeol walks to him with a kit. “Hey. I don’t think your friends are easy to kill. They are fine. Don’t worry. Sit down, Baek. Let me clean your wound.”

“Rebels? Over.” Lu Han asks.

Baekhyun does not respond but he sits again, unbuttoning his polo to take off his right sleeve. Chanyeol swallows a lump yet again. He gapes at how smooth and milky and lean Baekhyun’s upper body is. Beneath his flesh is nothing bun fine muscles.

“No, Sir. Civilians. The Rebel group strengthens our forces. Half of the population is them. No one is harmed in the district troops and the rebel group. Over.”

Lu Han eyes the fallen bodies before speaking again. “Send Joonmyeon here. Eleven casualties from the government. Nine are wounded. Over.”

They hear loud knocks even before the soldier on the other line responds. Lu Han turns off the radio.

“General Park! This is Kim Joonmyeon of District IV. Please grant us entrance!” Loud thuds echo once more but no one moves.

World War III has ended – at least that is what the people believes. Lu Han, Yixing, Joonmyeon, and Chanyeol has grown up in the same military academy. They have been trained for years but the greatest experience there was for them was during the war. Greatest for them as military leaders but the most painful for them as human beings.

They have been together long enough to share and overcome all the burden of responsibilities and grief. They have learned to trust and not to trust at the same time. This time is no different.

“You can’t trust something that you don’t see,” Baekhyun murmurs but all of them hear. “Go to your initial positions, ready your guns. General Park, give me new pieces of cloths so we can gag these nine scumbags here. Then turn the lights off again.” Had Baekhyun not called him General, one would think that he is the one in charge of the group. Chanyeol is not done cleaning the wound, he did not even touch him yet but Baekhyun stands, buttoning his shirt and reloading his gun.

Another smile finds its way in Chanyeol’s lips. He does not understand why but he enjoys the way his heart flutter when Baekhyun gives commands. At the back of his mind, Baekhyun might actually be a general too, commanding his own troops of rebels.

“Open the door slowly and stay behind it. We will be the one to shoot if there are any attackers,” Baekhyun continues to command. He passes belts of pellet. “Reload. Some reinforcements might find their way here. Anyone with AK 47? It’s easier to get the job done with that rifle.”

The four of them walk to their positions, guns aiming at the door. Chanyeol, armed with his own pistol, quietly heads toward the door. He places his hand in the knob as he presses his back flatly on the wall. Once he twists it and door bursts open, he will be safely hidden behind.

“On my cue, General,” Baekhyun says, hiding behind a cabinet. He raises three fingers counting down. _Two_ . He gestures. _One_.

Chanyeol slowly twists, unlocking the knob.

“General Park, are you there? This is Kim Joon –” The door opens. “Ready your guns, in my command.” They hear careful steps going inside.

Lu Han switches the lights on and it feels like everything freezes. Joonmyeon’s troops have their arms extended, guns point at the four of them, some on the nine people lying on the floor. Chanyeol and the other three do the same. Fingers wrapping at their pistols and rifles.

It is Chanyeol who breaks the tension. He closes the door a little too loud and every one of them turns around. All guns and snipers pointed at him.

“Park Chanyeol of District VI.”

It takes a few more heartbeats before Joonmyeon responds, as if making sure it is really him. “Lower your guns. It’s General Park’s son.” The troops obey him and they ease. “Kim Joonmyeon, Sir of District IV.”

Chanyeol walks to him and gives him a tight squeeze. “Thank you for coming.”

“I don’t see any reason of coming at all after seeing this. You handled twenty people on your own.” Joonmyeon proudly grins.

“Let’s celebrate later,” Chanyeol waves him off. “How is the situation upstairs? All clear?”

“Five casualties from the civilians. Collateral damage. The dead bodies are not marked,” Joonmyeon reports.

Yixing queries, wiping his gun off the silver blood stains with the hem of his polo. “How many people are marked? Where are they? They can’t leave this building.”

“We are not yet sure of that, Xing. Everyone is gathered in the party hall. No one is leaving until we check them,” Joonmyeon replies, walking over to the bodies. “We have two hours to dispose them. After that period, the New World will know they have been killed.”

“Two hours?” Baekhyun questions. “Maybe we can bring them to our headquarters and examine the bodies.”

“That’s too risky, Baek,” Chanyeol crouches over a dead body. He holds a hand to show, feeling the cold under his touch. “Look here. This is the mark.” The others gather behind him. They see three tiny slits at the back of their left hands. Chanyeol runs a thumb, feeling the hardened skin. “In the middle slit, a chip is inserted. It tracks everything they do. Where they are at the moment, their transactions. Bringing them to your headquarters is as good as shouting to the New World that you’re there.”

“We can leave the bodies here,” Lu Han suggests. “But we need to get you out of here. They can’t know you allied to the rebels. It will be a big scandal to you and to your family.”

“I can’t leave. Not like this,” Chanyeol shakes his head, standing up once more to look at all of them.

“You promised me your allegiance, General.” Baekhyun smiles dangerously.

Chanyeol heaves a deep breath, thinking hard. It is not that he is not going to fulfil his promises to the rebel but he knows how his father’s mind work. He cannot risk their lives for him. “I need to settle things first with my father.”

“Diplomats who don’t fulfil their promises create another war,” Baekhyun aims a pistol at him, all innocence and smiles gone. His eyes are dead cold and if they could kill, Chanyeol must have been lying on the ground and choking in his own blood. “You promised me your allegiance.”

Chanyeol is shaken but he has mastered the art of bottling up his emotions inside. He looks indifferent outside but he cannot deny the lump forming in his throat. Beads of sweat gather on the back of his neck.

“Hey wait, Baekhyun. No need for this,” Lu Han places a hand on his tensed arms.

“If I go with you right now, I give up the documents we could have if I stayed with my father. I sacrifice the possible information we can get to access the New World. I sacrifice _you_. I can’t leave. Not like this,” Chanyeol repeats his point, struggling to look at Baekhyun’s eyes directly without wavering.

“You’re still part of the government, I see. And this is why I don’t trust anyone from that side.” Baekhyun lowers the gun and it points at his leg. With a blink of an eye, the general sees the rebel pulling the trigger.

Chanyeol hears a gunshot before he feels the bullet just above his knee. He wobbles, slouching down on his own floor. “Fuck, Baek!” His hands wrap around the wound.

“It won’t kill you,” Baekhyun says coldly. “Now you have reason to stay. Tell your dad we attacked you and his troops. You were rendered helpless and hopeless because of our overwhelming number.”

Lu Han, Yixing, and Joonmyeon gape at Chanyeol as Baekhyun sashays his way to the door. “Come on. Before more of the rats come here pestering us.”

Baekhyun places his pistol in the backside pocket. He turns around once more, eyeing Chanyeol directly. “We will come back to you, general. When I see you again, you should have decided. And please tell this to your government, Red will always be the color of humanity.”

Chanyeol continues to writhe in pain as Baekhyun walks out. Lu Han and Yixing attend to him, bringing the kit that is supposed to be for Baekhyun’s wound.

In his mind, he shouts: _I can’t wait to see you again_ , _Byun Baek. Wait until I see you again_.

 

***

 

**THE LAST BOMB**

Chanyeol paces in his study room, limping. He crouches down as he looks at the photographs on the shelves. One frame displays a short and perky old woman beside a tall and slim girl flashing their teeth. Chanyeol smiles as he remembers where and when was it taken – his sister’s graduation, one of the happiest days of Chanyeol’s memory.

Then beside the photo is him and his dad, dressed in a camouflage suit, looking stern and stiff. He remembers how proud his father was when he graduated in the military academy, equipped and ready for the life’s real battles. He remembers how his father’s embrace gave him much strength and pride that he held onto whenever they have operations. He remembers their good _old_ days and for a moment, Chanyeol wants to cry.

He loves his father so much and now it came to this: Chanyeol on the other side of the war.

It has been four years since they had a talk as a father and son. Chanyeol can even bet his pinky finger because he knows every word that was said that night.

_“Son, you know how proud I am of you. Right?”_

_“Dad, don’t tell me you’re drunk already. This is just your second bottle.” Chanyeol chuckled, sounding whiny._

_His father chortled too, bringing his glass to his lips. His eyes looked far away. “Son, can you tell me the very thing I always want you to understand?”_

_Chanyeol sensed that his father sounded melancholic. He sounded like he wanted to convey something in his words. “Always stand up for what is right. Fight for it.”_

_His father smiled, looking at him straight in the eyes. “Good. Now, son, let me share to you one of my realizations as a general.”_

_Chanyeol mirrored the same grin as he gulped his own drink. “Bring it on, Dad.”_

_“Many men had fallen because they think what they’re fighting for is right.”_

_Chanyeol gulps his own drink, letting the silence fill the moment as he thinks. “What do you mean?”_

_“How do you know if you’re fighting for the right cause? Son, beware of men who think they fight for the right things.”_

_“Is this about the New World, Dad? Are they really here, now?”_

_“Our usual operations and encounters are very far from the battles of life. It’s not always black versus white. In life, you will always feel you don’t have a fortress because enemies surround you. There is an entire spectrum and you will find yourself in the middle. Both ends will attack.”_

_“Dad, why are you telling me this?”_

_“Remember the words I told you. Fight for what is right yet understand that there is danger in that. And fighting for the right things is the hardest. When you fight for it, you fight against the things you love. Sometimes, you fight against yourself.”_

_Chanyeol and General Park sat side by side, drinks in their hands and eyes at the sky. For a moment, they let silence speak._

_“Park Chanyeol, my son, whatever happens. Promise me, you will never forget how proud I am of what you have become.” His father placed an arm around his shoulder, squeezing and giving him assurance._

_“I love you, Dad. I hope whatever happens, you will not regret telling how proud you are of me.”_

_“You are my greatest achievement. You will always be. As a father, I cannot ask for more.” With that, General Park clanked his glass against his son’s._

Life _must_ be easy for Chanyeol – the soon to be general. _Must_. Sweet and caring and supportive parents and a loving sister. What more could he ask for? But when he start standing for the things he knew and understanding the things he did not, Chanyeol’s biggest battle begins.

 _Sometimes you fight against the things you love_.

Chanyeol inhales deeply for the third time this morning as he tries to exhale the heaviness in his heart. He circles around his room again, limping and grunting. He frustrates himself even more as he remembers the rebel shooting him mercilessly in the leg. It has been two weeks since the crash in his party happened. He wants to see the rebel again to give one small punch in the face.

“Wait for me, Byun Baek. You rascal!” He mutters under his breath.

Chanyeol has been paralyzed by his father and he feels pathetic about it. A young general like him being grounded by his father for being _hostaged_ by the rebels as if it is his fault they attacked. He feels _paralyzed_ because he cannot do anything about it.

Chanyeol walks to his window and parts the thick curtains. He freezes at the sight before an innocent smiles plays on his lips. “I forgot today is the first snow,” then he frowns again. “It’s because of that Byun Baek!”

Winter has been Chanyeol’s favourite season. It is the coldest yet it is the time when everything is white, like something pure and clean can exist in this world. It is the time of the year where everything is silent and they rely on the people around them for warmth. Chanyeol never misses the fall of the first snow, he would be up an hour before to welcome the flakes and gladly allow them to wet and freeze his face. He enjoys feeling numbed once in a while.

No feelings. No regrets. No frustrations. No responsibilities. _Just him_ and the _snow_.

In his 24 years, this is the only year that he fails to do his annual ritual. One, because Baekhyun injured him. Two, because of his father grounding him in their home because of _him_.

Chanyeol continues to immerse himself in the whiteness and the coldness of the world outside when he sees a black figure traversing against the unforgiving fall. The figure grows larger at it nears him, seemingly going to where Chanyeol is exactly. The young general’s eyes widen.

“Kyungsoo?” He mumbles on the other side of the window. He waves his hand frantically to grab his attention but Kyungsoo’s head remains down, seriousness clouding his face. He walks as if the freezing temperature does not bother him. “Yaa! Kyungsoo!” He knocks on the window but it is a futile attempt.

Knocks on his door answers him instead. Chanyeol turns around at the moment his father enters. The young general shudders at his face. It is nothing but grim.

“Father,” he greets, voice sounding distant. He sees the way his father flinches at the politeness and it wrenches his inside so much. “What happened? How did the meeting go?”

“Representative Lee Soo Hye is dead,” his father announces, eyes wary and sad.

“What? What happened?”

“It was because of the Rebels. The re… the Rebels killed him. He was shot and uhm burned.”

“What? By the rebels? They won’t do such thing. Father, we should –”

Chanyeol freezes once more as he looks at his father, producing a knife. “Son –”

It has been four years since the last time the General called him that. Chanyeol struggles to compose himself and halt the tears from streaming down. He misses his Daddy so much. “Fath– Dad, what are you doing? What the fuck, Dad! What the hell!” Chanyeol shouts, running to him.

General Park pierces the knife at the back of his hand as if to scrape something out. He grimaces at the pain but does not speak until a black rectangular thing the size of an earring falls on the floor. “Son, my time is up. They found out. Soo Hye is dead. They killed him.”

“The rebels are after you?” Chanyeol’s blood boil and for a second, he wants to torture Byun Baekhyun too.

“No, the New World killed him. They found out we are spying and funding _our_ rebels. They will come to me next.”

“You told me the rebels did.” Chanyeol’s mind shuts everything off and he barely understands what his father is trying to say. “What? What are you doing? Wait. What’s happening?”

“I can’t tell that a while ago, my chip is still in me. They will hear it. Listen, you need to leave, bring your mother and sister with you. I destroyed my chip. Two hours and the New World will know what happened to me.”

“Dad? What will they do? Tell me!”

“Listen to me, son.” The general holds Chanyeol’s shoulder to steady both of them. “The documents. The documents are in the headquarters. In my office. The middle vault, open it. Get them before they do. Or else, everything we are fighting for will be nothing.”

“Dad. I thought you are on their side. I thought you are their–”

“I wasn’t theirs. I wasn’t theirs the moment I found out about the _Riddance_.”

Chanyeol’s eye widen even before his mind can register the horror of the word. “ _Riddance_?”

“Purging. Unmarked people will –”

The general is cut off by an alarm, deafening enough to silence both of them. Chanyeol’s heart paces with negativity, every beat feels like a stab wound.

“Son. There’s no time left. Please, listen to me.”

There are knocks on the door and Chanyeol writhes in pain as he sees his father’s eyes, asking for forgiveness. “Dad, what will happen?”

His father just smiles and pulls him in a warm embrace. “Hide in the trap door,” he says before releasing him and looks at him straight in the eyes. “I’m sorry I cannot explain everything but promise me to do the things I asked you to do. For the greater good.”

Chanyeol is not given the time to respond. He is immediately pushed in one of the trap doors in his study room. He peeks through the holes as he feels his own pistols on his belt as he struggles to steady his heart so he can hear everything outside.

One more loud knock and the Chanyeol sees his father walking to the door, stiff and stern and proud as if nothing can frighten him. Chanyeol gasps when he sees his mother’s paling face as an arm surrounds her neck, a gun pointed at her head. The same goes for his sister, Yoora. The two of them are held by two bulky men in silver uniforms, hands tied behind their backs. One more man enters.

“Well, General Park,” the man, who seems to lead the group because of his glittering suit, speaks. “Mind telling us where your dearest son is?”

“He is not here.”

The three men laugh. “Should we call you crazy then? Who were you talking to?”

“I talked to him over the phone,” the general answers. From where Chanyeol is, he can see how his father’s hand tremble behind his back. Chanyeol’s eyes start to water.

“The traitor. Mr. Rose child wants to see you personally, do you know that? And you are the reason why Seoul will be bombed in few hours’ time.”

“You are the reason behind all the deaths of our people. You are just as shameful as I am.”

A slap in the face with a gun answers the general. His father staggers back as his mother yowls in pain. “Let’s get this done with. Tell us where you hid the papers and we’ll all let you go. Do otherwise, well, let’s do a live show of how I taste your daughter. Game?” The man challenges.

“Dad! Let him have his way. Don’t tell him where you hid it or it will be over for all of us.” Yoora cries, her eyes welcome defeat in this lifetime.

“Slut,” the man spits, throwing her a flirtatious look. “Why don’t we try it then?”

General Park stands up once more, spitting silver blood in the carpet. In one quick heartbeat, he produces his own gun and aims at their leader. “Don’t call my daughter, slut. Asshole!”  There is a gunshot then a body thuds on the floor even before all of them can register that the General pulled the trigger. “Let go of my daughter or you will be next to follow your leader in the afterlife.”

Mrs. Park and Yoora are trembling under the arms of the bulky men. They are almost choking on their tears.

“The New World will still find out. You’re good as dead, General.” The man holding Mrs. Park spits, eyes throwing him disgusted look.

Chanyeol’s heart is in his throat and he cannot bear the adrenaline pumping in his veins any longer. He twists the knob and steps out, aiming two pistols at the people who hold the women of his life. “Drop them,” he warns. “Drop them or I’ll shoot.”

“Son, what are you doing?!” His father roars, without glancing at him, a gun still pointed at the man who holds Yoora.

Chanyeol buries the hesitation deep inside him. He sees his sister closing her eyes, moving her head a little to the side. There is another shot and they are all stunned. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Nobody blinked until the bodies fall on the floor, silver blood staining the white carpet. One blood stream coming from the eye of the man who held Yoora, the other stream is from the other’s forehead.

Chanyeol is stupefied too until the warm arms of his older sister brings him back to reality. “You do good, Yeol!” She pecks him in the forehead as if they are just practicing shooting and nothing life threatening just happened.

“We need to leave now,” their father says, tone still stiff and stern. He marches out of Chanyeol’s study room to the sala before coming back again with a silver suitcase. “We have to leave in ten minutes.” He gathers all papers and folders he sees and stuff them inside a case.

“Dad, wait.”

“There is no time. We need the documents here.” He stacks another piles of folders. “List of unmarked elites. We need to get to them before the New World does.”

Chanyeol follows him, momentarily stopping upon seeing his things already packed. “Fathe- Dad, wait. No. I can’t leave. We can’t leave.”

“We’ll be flying to Europe. It’s safer there, honey,” his mom says, plastering a smile against her strained face.

“What about the people? We can’t leave them like this.”

“We can’t do anything about it, son. The jets are on their way,” his father gives him a hard look. “We’ll leave in ten minutes.”

It is a mistake that Chanyeol’s eyes find the window beside the door and he sees Kyungsoo on the doorsteps. _Kyungsoo, it’s not a good time_. Chanyeol would’ve said then he sees a golden pocket watch dangling in his hands and for a brief and odd moment, he feels his heart racing more.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go before this place blows up.”

“What?” Chanyeol raises his tone for the first time. “What do you mean blow up?” Then with a sheer terror, Chanyeol realizes that the jets on their way are not for them. They are for this place. His eyes water again.

“Son,” his father talks to him like he is a child who still does not understand the way of the world. He walks to him and places a hand on his shoulder. “We have to leave or we die.”

“Father – no, General. General Park.” His voice is hoarse and trembling and he does not bother hiding it. He removes his father’s hand on him a little violently and tries to compose himself amidst the fear and horror eating his insides. “Please. They are your people. Our people. They don’t have to do this. Please!” He wails, his eyes starts to swell from all the tears streaming down his face.

“The rebels will do just fine. They have plans and you don’t have to concern yourself with it,” his father responds, also on the verge of tears.

“General,” Chanyeol repeats as if it would change something. “General, listen–”

“I ought to protect this family, Chanyeol! I am a father first before a _general_.” His father sighs, eyes pleading and troubled.

“Bring mom and Yoora with you. But I will stay.” Chanyeol says with a tone of finality.

“Son,” he whispers, almost gasping in disbelief. “No. No, you can’t. I can’t–”

“Someone has to correct the history, Dad. Allow me to do it.” Chanyeol grabs the case from his father’s hold. “I’ll do it.”

“I can’t deliver you to your death. This is suicide!” A tear fell from General Park’s eye. His face displays vulnerability and fear.

“One small sacrifice for the greater good, Dad. Please. Let me stay. I have friends here. We can plan. We can… we can stop whatever it is the needs to be stopped.” Chanyeol pleads, holding his father’s hand for warmth, for support. For permission.

“Nobody can stop the _Riddance_.” His father whispers in between his sobs, his head is down and his chest is heaving deeply.

Chanyeol tries to smile. “Believe in humanity, General. The way you believe in your son, Dad.”

His father only shakes his head in response before leaning his head to his son’s shoulder. Mrs. Park and Yoora find their way to them too, arms wide open to hug them. Under normal circumstances, they would look like a family celebrating over an achievement that it overjoyed them so much to make them do a big group hug.

“Chanyeol,” his father says, his voice a little muffled by their close proximity. “This might be my greatest regret. Leaving you here.”

“We will have time, Dad. I promise. As long as you are all safe and okay, then I will be.” Chanyeol gathers his father in his arms, hugging him tightly.

“Make sure you make it out alive or else I’ll kill you!” Yoora threatens impishly before giving him another hug.

Mrs. Park did not say anything but only plant a soft and long kiss in his cheeks. Her eyes behold so much meaning that no words could ever suffice.

Chanyeol holds his mother’s hands. “I love you, mom. Please be safe.”

“We will. You too!” She cups his cheeks before pulling him in another warm embrace.

They may have all the smiles but deep inside, each of them can feel that this might be the last. Last touch, last hold, last hug, last smile. As a family.

“Go now. You still have time.” Chanyeol ushers them at the back lawn where a helicopter is waiting.

“Son,” his father speaks, eyes watering. Chanyeol stops for a moment to let him finish but his father seems to be unable to find words.

“Dad–”

“We may not win this war.”

“I know, Dad. But we can save some few people to tell our stories so others can continue to fight.”

His father breaks into loud sobs and Mrs. Park and Yoora do nothing but to stare at them. “I miss you, son.”

“I miss you, Dad. It has been four years. I wonder where you have been all those times.” Chanyeol tries to laugh but his voice also cracks.

“I’m sorry. I thought we were fighting for the right cause.”

Chanyeol stares at his father for a long moment as he remembers his very words. _Many men had fallen because they think what they’re fighting for is right._ “It’s not yet late too do the _right_ things.”

Silence embraces them again before Yoora breaks it. “Come on guys. This isn’t good bye.”

“Go now,” Chanyeol ushers them to their lawn.

PC 6104 greets them, engine already starting at the control of General Park. Mrs. Park and Yoora hop inside, strapping themselves carefully onto their seats.

“Chanyeol,” General Park shouts amidst the roar of the helicopter. Their hairs are all blown. “Remember the files in my office. Middle vault. The password is you and your sister’s birthday. Add them. Then the case. The list of unmarked elites. Save them. They are waiting.” He delivers his instructions like a rapper.

“I will, Dad. Go now. We’ll be fine. Underground districts are under my command.”

“Do well son.” General Park gives another small peck on his cheeks before hopping on the helicopter. Chanyeol sees him manipulating the controls beside Yoora before the vehicle finally lifts itself off the ground. They wave at him but Chanyeol cannot assess their faces as they all wear their masks.

On a second thought, Chanyeol thinks it is better that way. At least their expressions – whatever they are – will not haunt him in his sleep. At least his family is safe.

Chanyeol enters the house once more. Gathering his bags and all the documents he might need. Then a thought pops in his head: _Riddance_.

More thoughts followed: _Purging_ . _Unmarked_ . _Bomb_ . Chanyeol struggles to burn these words so they will not burn out the hope that he _still_ holds.

He is about to bring his things outside when he hears footsteps. Instinctively, his hands fly to the pistols on his belt then he steadies his breathing, his paces as light as a feather. Then he sees a shadow in the hall, near the door leading to their lawn.

Chanyeol is sure it will be another one of the _Silvers_ but they never wear such ebony coats, as dark as their souls. The intruder’s back is facing him. The young general swears there is familiarity in this extraneous man. “Kyung –”

Chanyeol is cut off by an explosion. It is so near him that the walls almost shriek and the windows shatter and he is sent flying on the other end of the hall. His head hits one of the cabinets, his guns flying away from him. “What the fuck?” He grunts as he stands up, vision blurring a little. He freezes instantly when his eyes land on the window, its hinges dangle at the impact. Curtains also torn violently.

His mind shuts everything off as his eyes feast over falling debris of… _metals_. Piece by piece it lands on their roof, producing a painful sound, some on their lawn. A big burning chunk is falling and Chanyeol expects it to clang. But to his horror, it only thuds. Hard. On the ground. Like a dead meat being thrown down from heaven after the feats of the gods.

“Fuck!” Chanyeol shouts as he runs outside, heart on his throat. He runs as fast as he can, caring less about the pain in his wounded leg. “No! No! This can’t be! Nooooooooo!” Chanyeol screams, as if to tear his vocal cords apart.

PC 6104 exploded. PC 6104 boarded by his family. Chanyeol is so focused to them fall that he does not feel a steel coming his way. It is too late for him to realize when it pierces his right shoulder and Chanyeol staggers back and his knees are forced to kiss the ground.

“No! Dad! Mom! Yoora!” He wails. He knows he is crying but he cannot feel the tears on his eyes and on his face. All he knows is that his family… He screams. He curses. “No!” His lungs constricts and he struggles to breathe yet his mind is still reeling.

He watches how the fire eat them. He watches how they die. He watches how his world crumble and he cannot even bring himself to his feet, still kneeling as the metal buries itself painfully in his shoulder.

The snow continues to fall, as unforgiving as life is to him. He does not know when he stopped crying, when he laid down on the cold white ground, staining it with red. He does know what to do or what just happened. His mind shuts everything off except for one thing: _His family is gone_.

Chanyeol freezes himself at the sight of the fire that is now conquered by the winds. He numbs himself at the fact that maybe his Dad is right. This is a battle they cannot win. Chanyeol welcomes all the stabs of the cold and the pain and life.

He loses track of the time the way he loses himself in the thoughts of the falling bodies of the ones he loves.

“They will pay for this,” he mutters under his breath, fog coming out of his mouth. “I promise.”

Chanyeol is about to close his eyes, ready to surrender to the blackness luring him when a black shoes appear in his sight.

“Leave.”

Unable to raise his gaze, Chanyeol only manages to ask, “Who are you?” He asks though he knows the voice very well.

“You have to leave now.”

“What are you up to, Kyungsoo? Don’t tell me you ally to the New World. What did they give you in return?”

“I don’t need to ally myself to anyone.”

“Those who are lukewarm have no place in this world.”

Chanyeol hears him chortle. A strained laugh. “You speak like good and evil are the only ones to exist.”

“I don’t need to hear your philosophies.”

“And I don’t need to see you sulk. You have to leave if you want to save the world.”

“Save the world?” Chanyeol huffs. “I can’t even save my family.”

“A little sacrifice for the greater good. I heard you saying it.”

Chanyeol does not respond. He sees Kyungsoo’s shoes, polished and shiny, walking away from where he lays. He lets his tears wet his face again as he breaks down in loud sobs he knows no one will ever hear even though he knows his family is just a few meters away from him.

 _My family deserves more than to be a sacrificial lamb_. He repeats it to himself like a mantra.

Chanyeol lets more minutes – _more hours_ , he is not sure – before he musters his strength to stand up. He whimpers at the dull throb on his shoulder. The coldness of the temperature numbing the pain.

Holding on to a fence, he supports himself but is immediately sent flying _again_ to the other side of the lawn, his head hitting one of their window panes. He is deafened for a moment before he awakes to the reality of what just happened.

A bomb has been dropped.

The bomb has been dropped.

“No!” Chanyeol gasps as he writhes in pain, his vision blurred by the smoke that billows, dusting his eyes a little painfully. He stands again, ignoring his bleeding shoulder, his throbbing leg. The scene before his eyes stuns him so much that he fails to notice another glass shard buried _deep_ in his side.

From afar, one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city shrieks violently before it humbles itself down, crashing and sending metals, concretes, and office wares everywhere. Debris and rocks as big as his fists rain down. The bomb has been dropped somewhere near the center of the city. Too far from Chanyeol that he managed to survive yet too near for him to witness the crime.

“What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?” Chanyeol repeats like a kid unable to comprehend. He cries like a child over some broken toy yet his heart aches like he had already seen all the evil things there are. His tears wash away the dust from his eyes and as if it clears his mind too, he sees his jeepney – seemingly abandoned.

Chanyeol scowls one more, staggering back when he finally felt the steel on his shoulder and the glass shard on his side when takes a step towards the car. “Dang it!” He curses.

Without having a second thought, his palm encloses over the steel. He screams with his might as he pulls it out of his body, staining his hand with angry red. He feels his flesh being torn and being ripped by the edge but it does not stop him. Closing his eyes and taking a very deep breath, he forces all his strength out to remove the metal until finally, it thumps softly on the mattress of snow and lays abandoned on the ground. He does the same on the shard on his glass, struggling a little because he cannot use his right hand to remove the shard on his left side.

Soon enough, Chanyeol is nothing but whimpers and wounds. His blood drips from his body, tainting the white ground with red droplets. He walks inside the house to gather the case and the papers, thanking himself for not forgetting them.

He found his bag and empties it off his clothes. He stuffs all the amulets and guns it can hold before stacking the folders safely inside. Then, he attends to his wound with his personal kit. The torn flesh in his shoulder is so big, Chanyeol can insert two bullets if he wanted to. Grunting every time, he wraps his wounds with a clean gauge until he is full of patches. His side, his shoulder, his leg. There is still pain but at least, the blood is not streaming anymore.

There is still pain, a throb like a pulsating flesh yet Chanyeol cannot feel his heart. For the first time, he feels like a robot programmed to do what he needs to do, mechanically pulling and grabbing essential things like he ought to. It takes him more minutes to prepare before he heads outside.

He forces himself not to look when he passes by the lawn.  Not to look at the bodies blackened to ash. Their bodies falling is enough to haunt him for the rest of his life. Awake and asleep.

Being a master of lock picking at an early age, Chanyeol does not worry much about he is going to start the car without the key as he forgets where he has placed it earlier. Once he is inside and after some disconnection and reconnection of cable wires, the engine starts. He turns on the radio for some lies the New World will feed its people.

“The New World Order has been born after so many years of conception and all countries coalesce for the purpose of peace and security.” The man speaking says.

Chanyeol has an idea of who that man could be. “Rose child,” he whispers. “I should be proud, shouldn’t I? Had I not known what you meant when you said _peace_ and _security_.”

“Yes. The war has ended and to establish a better and more _humane_ society, we have to cooperate,” Chanyeol continues to listen. “And to cooperate means to fully surrender to the New World Order. We have people in the city halls to help you get your chips as an act of your allegiance to the one true government. Let’s start a new world. A perfect world that we deserve.”

“Damn you and your false sense of peace!” Chanyeol utters under his breath, fog coming out of his mouth. He shivers at the coldness yet he is grateful that it numbs his pain.

Chanyeol sees jets hovering in the sky and if looks could kill, Chanyeol is sure they will all be blown off with the deadly looks he is throwing at these metallic birds. But the next thing that happens is as if destiny hears him right.

When Chanyeol takes a turn, another explosion is heard. It is a deafening yet it sounds distant to suggest that another bomb has been dropped. Crouching a little to peer outside, Chanyeol sees one of the jets, crashing down like a ball of fire.

“But who would–” Chanyeol starts but cuts himself immediately upon knowing the answer. _Rebels_. He surprises himself when he feels his heart racing.

And as if to confirm his assumption, he sees a stone-like figure as big as his two fists combined flying towards one of the jets, aiming. He hears another blast and one more of the jets comes crashing down, burning violently. The remaining jets make a complete turn and speed away. But another two are not able to survive, two stones-like figure have been thrown in the sky and they hit the tails of the metallic birds. Like the others, they went down, engulfed by fire.

“The Rebels are here,” Chanyeol speeds up, turning from corners to corners and traversing the empty streets which he finds odd. “Where are the people?” It is as if the people have vacated the town even before the attack happened.

When he arrives at the center of the city, the snow is drowning the streets. But even the whiteness cannot cover the crime – the bomb has been dropped. The streets look like popped veins with much blood coloring the road and Chanyeol wobbles as he gets off the car.

“What have you done?” Chanyeol’s face is nothing but grim. His eyebrows furrow, etching deep lines in his forehead. His mouth gapes in extreme vexation as he finds the strength to step forward.

He surprises himself again. A hole inside him is creating a void he cannot resist yet he still manages to care. Chanyeol is afraid whether he is genuinely concerned at the people or he was just made to be concerned like all generals do.

He just lost his family and here he is. Trying to save whoever can be saved. It wrenches him, so much. He failed to protect his family yet here he is. _Here he is_ . For a moment, he wants to go back, and mourn. He deserves a chance to mourn and his family deserves to have a proper _burial_.

Yet his mind tell him to stop. An urge inside telling him to focus because more can be saved. More can be done.

“This isn’t missile,” he whispers to himself, to calm down and to focus.

There were mountains of rubbles everywhere and bodies peeking out of it. All the buildings had unwillingly humbled themselves down, not one stood proud. Chanyeol does not know whether they are still alive.

It is true. The missile is not the one that has been dropped, because if it is, Chanyeol might be dead too. An unnamed corpse buried under a pile of rocks. But the bomb is just as lethal.

A stretched arm which seems to poke out of rubble gets Chanyeol’s attention. _Instinctively_ , Chanyeol’s mind wants him to help _like he ought_ _to_.

 _This is the least thing you could do_ , his mind says. _For your family_.

But as he crouches down, a swoosh movement of something black catches his eyes.

“Huh?” Chanyeol freezes, his muscles tightening with vigilance. Without looking up, his hand travels down to his belt, fingers enclosing to his gun. He waits with a pounding heart for an attack.

Nothing came. Instead, a soft velvety voice reaches out to him saying, “He’s dead.”

With a swift movement, Chanyeol stands then turns to his side, both arms stretched as he aims his gun at the man who is black from his hat down to his shoes. Ignoring the screams of his body in pain. If it were not for his eyes, Chanyeol would have shot him dead already.

“Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol’s pitch raises a little as waves of both surprise and comfort – which he finds very _odd_ , drowns him momentarily. Many questions _instantly_ flood him about this man with owl-like, innocent eyes. But this is the first one the rolls off his tongue. “What are you doing here?”

“Errands.” Kyungsoo replies shortly.

That rings Chanyeol’s instincts. He is about to lower his gun because his shoulder aches but something is suspicious about the man before him. “Errands? What do you mean errands? It seemed to me that wherever there is something tragic, there you are.”

“Aren’t you also?” Kyungsoo counters indifferently yet he lowers his gazes to the ground. When he looks at Chanyeol with unwavering eyes, Chanyeol feels coldness emanating from him.

Looking apprehensive, Chanyeol lowers his gun but not his guard. “I don’t believe you.”

“We have no time for explanation. You need to help me. There are people who are still alive.” Under normal circumstances, Chanyeol would have sense the urgency in his friend but his tone right now is nothing but soothing.

“And how do you know that?” Chanyeol raises his brow, securing his gun to the holster in his belt.

“Trust me,” Kyungsoo tries to smile. He turns away to near another person lying on the ground and looking lifeless.

“Trust is a dangerous thing at times like this. Tell me the truth.” Chanyeol presses, not moving a bit from where he stands. He eyes Kyungsoo with such caution as he mentally debates if his friend already allied to the New World. “You were at my house earlier this day and now you are here checking their pulses to know if the bodies are still alive. What have you been up to?”

Kyungsoo stops, his back still facing Chanyeol. Silence embraces them and the snowfall and the merciless winds are the only things howling, as if mirroring what Chanyeol wants to say in an unintelligible manner. It takes a few more painful minutes before Kyungsoo turns around, the hem of his black coat sashaying with elegance, scattering white dusts as he moves. He plasters a smile Chanyeol knows so well yet it feels distant. “I’ll tell you everything, Chanyeol. When _your_ _time_ comes.”

Chanyeol wants to say more. To retort, to ask. But something in Kyungsoo’s words shuts him. For a moment, they are just staring at each other with enough distance: Chanyeol’s eyes are trying to reach out and Kyungsoo’s are trying to assure.

“Come. Help me. Please, these people are still alive,” Kyungsoo beckons Chanyeol to follow him. But even without the latter’s response, he turns again and walks away.

Chanyeol feels tired and helpless and hurt to even mutter a protest so he does what Kyungsoo wants him to do. In a couple of minutes, the young general is tagging behind Kyungsoo’s steps.

They are nearing a pale white boy, with a dishevelled brown hair that looks grey at the first glance because of the ash, lying beneath a pile of stones. He is covered in red, painted by his own blood. His left cheek is bruised violet and the swell on his temple is close to bursting, with a blood streaming down. He has so many cuts on his face and another river of blood is in the corner of his mouth. Half of his lower body is buried on the debris and his left arm is badly angled.

“Do you know him?” Kyungsoo queries behind the young general who is crouching down, examining.

“He looks famil–” Chanyeol immediately shuts himself as he gasps in realization. “Fuck! This is Byun Baek!  Fuck! What are you doing here, you rascal! I should be the one to kill you!”

“So you know him.” Kyungsoo comments.

Chanyeol feels his heart thumping painfully in his cage like a bird demanding freedom from its cage. Without having a second thought, he immediately starts digging, throwing the stones atop Baekhyun away. Ignoring the pounding in his shoulder. “Damn it!”

“Calm down, Chanyeol. He is still alive.”

“Thanks. But I would appreciate it more if you help me get him out of this!” Chanyeol spits, still throwing rocks away until Baekhyun’s chest is seen on the surface.

“You get him out of that rubble, I’ll get the jeep,” Kyungsoo orders, still with the soothing velvety voice as if he panic and anxiousness do not exist.

“What? No! Come back here! Help me!” Chanyeol screams, his fists enclosing a large rock that hit Baekhyun’s knee. But Kyungsoo pays him no heed. “You of all people, why do you have to be here? I’m going to shoot you once you recovered. Hear that, Byun?” He utters indignantly.

Few more moments of digging and throwing, Baekhyun lies awkwardly on the ground with no rocks atop of him. And it is enough for Chanyeol to see how Baekhyun’s left arm and right leg fold awkwardly in his back. Violet bruises cover his face. His own blood splashed in his body is almost dry.

Though his stomach wants to churn at the sight and at the pain that has now fully resurfaced, Chanyeol crouches down once more. This time, digging all the knowledge and experience he had in first aid. He does not have any equipment and tools to ease the pain but he takes unconscious Baekhyun as an advantage to reposition his body.

Chanyeol holds the rebel’s left arm and slowly tugs it out from his back. The young general feels it crack every now and then but it does not stop him from moving. He does the same with the rebel’s right leg. Once they are positioned in the way they should be, Chanyeol tears a part of Baekhyun’s cloth. He uses the almost one yard-long cloth to wrap it around his elbow to avoid further dislocation. The other strip is for Baekhyun’s right knee.

 _What now?_ Chanyeol is about to ask when he sees another movement at his side.

A man who looks young like this boy with a hair colored copper. He seemingly walks out from the rubbles. His hair is ash as well and his body is close to being torn. A long and thin metal from one of the fallen buildings pierces through his right leg. Chanyeol can feel the immense pain as the man takes small steps. He can see him wince and he can hear him grunt. He was like that earlier.

“Baekhyun? Jongin? Joonmyeon! Help! Anybody! I’m here! I’m alive.” Chanyeol hears him shout. His voice is weak and strained but loud enough to attract attention.

“Hey! Wait! It’s me.” Chanyeol tries to run to him, scowling at every step. “I know you. We’ve met before, right? Are you hurt? Baekhyun’s there!” He says when he gets near him.

“I’m Jongdae. You-you are General Park’s son,” Jongdae speaks and debris fly out from his mouth. Their bodies shudders from the cold yet they are still thankful it numbs their pain. Had it not been from the snow, they could feel all the torn flesh as they move.

Chanyeol is about to assist him to stand up when he receives a punch. A hard one and it hits his bleeding shoulder. He staggers back and lands on the pile of stones, pricking his behind.

“What have you done!” Jongdae shouts and his voice echoes across the deserted streets. “You have killed all of us! MURDERER!”

Chanyeol sees his pain, reflected in the streams of tears from his eyes. He sees Jongdae holds his chest in pain as he is writhing in extreme agony. It hurts because it is true. He killed them. They failed to stop the attack.

“I never wanted this.” Chanyeol whispers, also twisting in his own pain as he remember how _their bodies_ fell.  “I’m sorry.”

The weight is in Chanyeol’s shoulder because that’s what generals are supposed to do. To protect. To safeguard security. Yet he failed. His father and their people.

“You will pay for this! All of you!” Jongdae curses. He staggers back. He tries to remove the steel in his right leg but it only worsens the pain. He screams yet again.

Chanyeol’s lips pucker as he tries to hold his tears. He stands up to help the other boy.

“Show me your mark!” Jongdae shouts once more. He fumbles his back pocket then produces a gun. Though with a trembling hand, a finger wraps on the trigger, ready to shoot.

“I’m not marked,” Chanyeol offers both his hands, palms down.

“The General’s family is marked. How come you don’t have one? Show me. Show me or I’ll shoot you.”

“I don’t have. I refused to be marked,” Chanyeol breaks down at the middle of his sentence, slumping back at the ground once more.

“The General? Whe-where is he?”

“My father is dead. Somebody bombed their helicopter.”

Jongdae’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief, fear is evident in his eyes. “It can’t be.”

“We tried to stop the attack.”

Jongdae’s face goes from remorse to livid. “But it still happened. Many are now dead.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Chanyeol’s tears continue to stream down. His lungs heave breaths that are too shallow. The scene before Chanyeol is nothing but his fault. “I’m sorry.”

There is silence cloaking and both of them sobs at their own pain. Until a jeep comes to them, its headlights seem to break them out of their trance.

“I know it’s painful and all that but there’s a lot to do. Please, help me,” Kyungsoo says as he parks the car before them. He leaves again yet no one bothers to ask where he will be.

Chanyeol stands once more, readying the rifle just in case. “Baekhyun is there. He is still alive.”

A small wave of relief washes over Jongdae’s face. “I need to get this out of me. It’ll be less painful. Can you help me?”

“Okay. But what do I do?”

“Come here.” Jongdae positions himself, sitting down. He lets out a scream of pain at every move as he straightens his pierced leg. “I’ll hold myself, you pull this metal out of me. Can you do that?” He pants.

“Are you sure? Will you survive it? I mean, we need apparatus–”

“Are you kidding? I survived the bomb. I can survive this one. Now, do it!” Jongdae barks. Anguish and determination in his eyes. “Do it.”

Jongdae’s breathing are laboured. It hitches the moment Chanyeol takes hold of the steel. “I’m going to step on your foot, okay? Then I’ll pull this out.”

Chanyeol steps on his right foot as a counter force when he pulls the steel. He ignores how his shoulder throb and how his stomach churns at the sight and at the excruciating screams of Jongdae. He can feel the steel tearing Jongdae’s flesh.

“Fuck!” Jongdae curses. His hands wrap around his leg, just above the steel to hold himself. “Do it. Pull it out! Pull it out now!”

Chanyeol exerts more force until the end of the steel is out of his leg and something seems to pop. Blood bursts from the hole in his leg and it showers Chanyeol in the face. Jongdae slumps down the road. His breathing is still laboured and weak.

“You are wasting too much blood.” Soon, Chanyeol rips a cloth from his shirt. He crouches down near Jongdae and wraps it around his leg, to somehow stop the flow and ease the pain. It is not as effective but it is helpful.

“Thanks,” Jongdae says, an arm flying to his forehead as he tries to steady his breathing. “I’m sorry. About your father.”

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Let’s talk about apologies later. I think we have people left to save. Are you sure your shoulder’s fine?”

“No, it’s not. But the sooner we get out of here, the better. There! Baekhyun’s there!” He repeats, pointing to his direction.

Chanyeol’s shoulder continues to throb as Jongdae wraps his arm around it for support. It is a painful walk for the both of them as they try to go to Baekhyun.

“Baekhyun!” Jongdae drops to his knees the moment he sees his face. “Baekhyun, no! Hey! Wake up. Please! Wake up. Baekhyun!” He screams at him.

“He’s alive, Jongdae. Don’t worry. Let’s carry him to the car.”

Jongdae immediately wraps an arm around Baekhyun’s back, shifting his position a little. “Help, I can’t stand.”

Chanyeol goes to aid him, scooping Baekhyun up painfully. This time, he finds it hard to bury the ache in his body as he walks to his car. He exhales loudly once he places Baekhyun inside the car, strapping him onto the seat.

He looks back to Jongdae who also throws a pile of stones away from a body. “Do you have a hideout or something? A place where we can hide as of the moment. For sure, the New World is notified about my family’s death but I am still alive. We can’t afford if someone sees us.”

Jongdae clears his throat before replying. Chanyeol sees him plastering a serious face, barren of any emotions. “We have a hiding place. But I don’t know if it’s a good thing to bring you there. They don’t trust you.”

Under normal circumstances, Chanyeol would have been offended. But this time is different. He cannot blame the people to be cautious and suspicious about everyone and everything. This is a tough time for all of them. One mistake and it can cause hundred deaths.

Chanyeol’s eyes look more apologetic than hurt. “I understand, but we need to get out of here. Let’s find a safe place first. I’ll look for a phone or anything so you could contact your people. They can pick you from where we are and bring you safely back to your hiding place.”

“I know a place. But it’s far from here.”

“You guys can make a good use of my car.”

“Come on! Hop! We don’t have time to lose.” Kyungsoo walks back to them. “There are more people alive and we need to get them in here.”

“Kyungsoo? You are alive?” Jongdae’s eyes widen in disbelief and in fear. “I thought you are dead. Where have been this past month? What happened… Where did…?”

Chanyeol is slightly taken a back at Jongdae’s _late realization_. “Didn’t you see him coming to us earlier?”

“No time for questions now. Come on!” Kyungsoo takes the driver’s seat.

When all of them are safely placed inside, Kyungsoo maneuvers the car to search for more people who survived the missile. Fortunately for them, they found Sehun, Jongin, and Joonmyeon. All of them are Jongdae’s friends. All of them, Chanyeol had met in parties his family hosted. All of them are part of the rebel group who denies the New World.

Chanyeol holds his breath, the way he holds back his tears. Jongdae’s friends are alive. They are alive. _Alive_. The way his family should be.

They are all cramped up inside Chanyeol’s jeepney, all seemed grateful for surviving the attack. Baekhyun is still knocked out and so are the rebels’ friends. Only Chanyeol, Jongdae, and Kyungsoo are awake.

“How do you know they are still alive?” Jongdae questions Kyungsoo as they make their way to a _safe house_.

“Heartbeat.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at the stupidity of his question.

“I mean how do you know they still have a pulse?” Jongdae clarifies.

Kyungsoo raises his brow, plastering a grin. “Uhm, you feel it?”

“Dang it! I’m talking about how you know these people still have a pulse? How do you know where to go to? It seemed weird that you know they are still alive and the others are not.”

Kyungsoo smiles but Chanyeol can see him hiding something beneath the quirk of his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe instinct? We’ve shared so much over the past years. We’ve build bonds that is very hard to destroy. Our connections allowed me to find you _again_.”

Jongdae still sounds exasperated. “Does that mean I don’t share the same bond? Because I honestly don’t know whether you guys are alive. See? I almost thought you were dead!”

“You were rattled. You can’t expect yourself to gather your inner energy to look for others when you are in serious pain,” Kyungsoo explains. “You just survived the missile attack.”

“It’s not a missile attack,” Chanyeol corrects. “If it is, we’re also dead like the others.”

“Whatever, bomb is still bomb.” Jongdae retorts, throwing Chanyeol a glance through the front mirror before returning it to Kyungsoo. “But that’s what brotherhood do, right? Forget yourself for the sake of the brothers.” He sounds melancholic.

“That’s true in some cases. But real brothers won’t let you forget yourself completely,” Kyungsoo smiles. “Now, let’s go home. Chanyeol, are you okay back there?”

“Stop the car.” Chanyeol orders, eyes and voice distant. He positions himself to hop off the car. “Go on. You can take the car. I’ll… I’ll be somewhere. I’m sorry for this tragedy. I wish I could change things but–”

“Hey. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” Jongdae looks at him, apologetic and sad. “I’m sorry about your family. Maybe Kyungsoo is right. I was rattled. I should’ve… I forgot to understand the pain you must have went through to stop the attack.”

“But still –”

Jongdae smiles warmly at him like there is still fire which the cold has failed to kill. He reaches from the front seat and places a hand on his arm. “You can join us, Chanyeol.”

 

***

 

**THE REBELS**

Chanyeol opens his eyes.

But instead of seeing the tall and stony walls. He sees his own home, shrieking because of the impact of the explosion. Instead of the dark ceiling, Chanyeol sees the sky and the bodies raining down like burning hailstones. Instead of feeling the coldness of the floor seeping to the thick mattress he is laying, he burns at the memory of his family being eaten by the fire.

He sees them all.

Instead of asking where he is, he asks, _why does it have to be them?_

Chanyeol’s tears warms his face even before he realizes he is crying again, loud sobs bouncing against the grey walls. He lays to his side before bringing his knees to his chest, hugging it. His shallow breaths reflect the deep wounds of his tragedy.

If it is not for the voice that speaks, Chanyeol would not have felt the warm hand in his head, patting it softly.

“I’m sorry, General.”

If Chanyeol has the strength, he would have immediately stood up and give the rebel a small punch in the face. Chanyeol’s back is facing him and he cannot see the rebel’s face but how could he not forget that voice and that luscious tone behind each of his words?

However, it does not sound the same now. It is the same voice but with a melancholic tone, seemingly peppered with _something_ close to remorse.

“What day is it?” Chanyeol asks instead. He silences his sobs though it has taken a lot of his energy to hold his guard up.

“Day 52 of the New World. You have been unconscious for almost two days. You have to –”

“What time is it?”

“Almost nine o’clock in the morning, general. But you have to –”

“Where are we?”

“Our headquarters. In the north. We are near the outskirt of the city. Chanyeol, are you feeling good now? You have to eat and –”

“I understand that this is your headquarters.” Chanyeol cuts off again. His voice sounds indifferent. “But, can you leave me alone for a second?”

“Will you be okay if I do?”

 _Will I ever be okay? I lost my family. Will I ever be okay? Will anyone be okay after being broken into shards?_ Chanyeol wants to ask. He wants to counter and he wants to shout. But he doesn’t have the energy left. So he utters, “Yes.”

“Okay.”

Chanyeol hears a screeching chair and the rebel’s footsteps follow. There is the twisting doorknob but even before he can hear the door open, the rebel speaks again. “Just call me if you need some company.”

Chanyeol almost huffs. “I’m fine. I don’t need a prostitute.”

Under normal circumstances, Chanyeol swears the rebel would counter or maybe shoot him in the leg again. But all he hears is the clicking of the door shut and the silence that billows after the thud.

He does not need a company. Misery and tragedy and sadness and pain are already with him. Who could ask for more? The moment he lets his guard down, his tears burst like a raging water from a damaged dam. He hugs himself more tightly as he drains his body with how hard he wails, puffing his eyes red.

He tries to gather his strength to echo the words of his father in his mind to comfort himself. To check if there is still a fire inside him waiting to be fanned so it could grow or the winter has overcome that lit he is struggling to keep.

_I am proud of you, my son._

_When you fight, sometimes you fight against the people you love._

_Sometimes we do not choose our battles. The battles choose us._

_Son, there is still goodness in this cruel world. You just have to open your eyes._

_Fight for the right things but realize that there is danger in that._

_I am proud of you, my son._

_I’m sorry, son._

_I am proud of you, my son._

_I am proud of you, my son._

_I am proud of you, my son._

Sleep comes to him in the most painful of ways. Because as soon as he closes his eyes, blackness did not welcome him. He sees a burning ball coming down from heaven, hitting the ground with an excruciating thump. It plays on Chanyeol’s mind like a song he willingly plays on repeat.

_My family deserves to be remembered. Even just by me._

 

*

 

The next hours, or maybe days, Chanyeol does not know, he awakes to a beautiful sound singing to him that for a moment, he feels like he is still dreaming.

_Even breathing_

_Is hard_

_When I’m filled with tears_

 

_Sometimes_

_It’s okay to hide inside me and cry_

_It’s okay_

_Because it’s gonna pass_

 

_Fall asleep in my arms_

_Don’t wake up like this_

_Because the morning is gonna come again_

_At the end of a lonely road_

_So that you can dream comfortably_

_I will turn off the light today_

 

_When you put your head up_

_Smile for me_

_So that you can forget the pain_

 

It takes him sometime to recognize that the lovely voice belongs to the rebel. And it takes him some more time to realize that his lips are quirking upwards. He feels foreign. _Odd_.

“Is this the part where you tell me to stand up and do whatever because you just, what? Serenaded me?” Chanyeol lays to his back and stretches, feeling lighter. He grimaces a little as he feels his aching body from curling like a ball for hours, _or days_ , and from the throbs of his wounds.

“General. It’s already eleven in the evening and you haven’t eaten anything since three days ago.”

Chanyeol’s retort come out coldly though he tries to sound playful. “You sound like you care.” He faces the rebel then immediately regretting he does.

The yellow lamp on his bedside table fights the darkness in the room yet it remains dim. But not dim enough to hide the rebel’s face. It is nothing but a mess. His usual droopy eyes lost its liveliness and playfulness. He has dark circles under his eyes like he has not slept for a week. His hair is like an unattended bush, all wiry and tangled yet it still glows in rich brown against the faint yellow light.

“Do you remember me?” The rebel asks, seriousness clouding his face.

Chanyeol smirks. “How could I forget you? You shot me in the leg two weeks ago, _Byun Baekhyun_.”

“I’m sorry.” Baekhyun speaks, his eyes are on the floor and his mouth quivers a little. “I’m sorry, I didn’t –”

“You didn’t mean to shoot me? Well, thanks. You already did. I don’t see the point of apologizing.” His tone is still cold and biting, but Chanyeol _tries_ to smile. _Willingly_. For the first time, after that tragedy happened.

He does not know but the rebel might be going through a tough time like he is. He is afraid to ask if he also lost someone so he remains his beam, still facing the rebel who looks so small and fragile and vulnerable. It takes more moments before Baekhyun finally looks up at him, eyes watery.

“I’m sorry, General.” He repeats. “I didn’t mean to –”

A knock on the door cuts him off. Chanyeol look up at the man who just entered but the rebel rests his gaze on the floor once more, sniffing his tears away.

He wears a blue leather jacket that reaches his legs. Long enough to hide whatever guns he has on his holsters. His skin is pale white and his face is hard and sharp. There is arrogance in the way he stands but Chanyeol’s impression on him shatters when he speaks.

“Good evening, General Park. General Byun. I hope I am interrupting something.” He grins as he wiggles his eyebrows at the rebel who can’t see him.

“What is it?” Baekhyun asks, his back facing the door and makes no move to look at him. “It’s eleven in the evening for pete’s sake, General Oh.”

“You are needed in the conference room, right now, General Byun. You are not in your private room so I wondered maybe you are here. It looks like you have moved to your new room, you haven’t left this place since three –”

“Very well, Sehun, you scoundrel! Give me a minute and I will be there.” The rebel wipes his face with his hands in the most mannered way before dusting his pants off.

Chanyeol just watches him with fascination. For a moment, he wants to chuckle at the sight of General Byun trying to look stern and strong amidst his swelling eyes. Not to mock and laugh at him but to show admiration for Baekhyun’s display of strength. That strength Chanyeol wishes he could have to survive the coming days.

Oh Sehun smiles widely and chuckles and this is the only time Chanyeol sees just how young this general may be. “Oh no! Don’t disturb General Park anymore. And uhm, you are really needed there right now. Like, right now. As in, now. You hear me? N. O. W. Now.”

“Shut it, Sehun!” He stands up, throwing a dagger looks at him before resting his gaze at Chanyeol. His face is still torn and bothered. “I will leave you now, General Park. But please, eat something. Food and drinks are waiting for you downstairs. The others are there too.” He plasters a smile that does not reach his sad eyes, before exiting in an elegant manner, the way he did when he left Chanyeol’s basement.

“Baekhyun hyung has been here since three days ago. Watching you.” General Oh shuts the door and walks to the chair where Baekhyun sat. “I don’t know how much had happened during your last party but I haven’t heard a confirmation about you two being together. I’m hearing rumours though. Are those true?”

“You are General Oh of?” Chanyeol raises his brow, teasing the younger and avoiding the question.

“Oh! I’m Oh S –”

Chanyeol cuts off, putting a serious look as he tries to sound nonchalant. “You must love yourself too much. You’ve mentioned your surname twice.”

“Oh!” The younger general gasps, face burning red.

“See?” Chanyeol chuckles. He sits, resting his head on the cold wall. His back bones cracking from how long he has curled up. “You are too chatty for a general. Do you know that?”

“I’m sorry, General Park.” He stands then bows then stands up again. But this time, he looks stiff. All smiles gone, his eyes look straight on the opposite wall. “My name is Oh Sehun. Twelfth District. The youngest general of the twelve districts.”

Chanyeol laughs lightly. “Hey! You don’t have to do that. I was just teasing you.” It takes him a couple of more laughter before grimacing at the fact of how much he feels light tonight. He doubts this is because he slept for almost three days.

“Baekhyun hyung is more terrible.” Sehun sits again, dragging his chair near Chanyeol’s bed and switching back to the playful boy he is. Chanyeol looks taken aback at the sudden turn of Sehun’s personality that he manages to chortle again. “More chatty and more devious. I wonder, are you two breaking up? He was crying when –”

“Don’t worry about it, Sehunnie.” Sehun looks taken aback too so Chanyeol halts himself, eyes widening. “Sehunnie? I can call you that, right?” He explains.

“Of… Of course. I mean, yes. General Park. You can call me whatever you uhm… whatever you want to call me.” Sehun looks flustered once more and Chanyeol cannot help himself but to laugh _again_.

“To be fair, you can call me Chanyeol. Drop the formalities. I am not a general anymore.” He responds. Heaviness resurfacing in his throat at his last statement.

“Then Chanyeol hyung it is.” Sehun beams widely once more and it is effective in burying the thoughts of Chanyeol’s family. Chanyeol swears this is the second time he sees a fire behind another’s eyes. As if that fire hasn’t been killed by the coldness. “So, you two haven’t broken up?”

Chanyeol huffs impishly. “Sehunnie, I didn’t do anything.” He lies, teasing the younger more. “I woke up and he was just apologizing and crying.”

“Whoa.” Sehun looks at him carefully. “Apologizing for?” He raises his brows.

“I don’t know. You came when he is about to tell it.”

“Oh!” Chanyeol sees Sehun exhaling loudly as if a thorn was just taken out of his throat. “Maybe… uhm, maybe that’s why he is uhm –”

“You’re stuttering, Sehunnie. Is there anything to be sorry for? What did Baekhyun do?” Chanyeol questions, eyeing him meaningfully.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders in response. “Maybe because of shooting you?” Sehun swallows before smiling.

“I told him not to apologize for that. Maybe he is just frustrated that time. Everybody wants to end the war and everyone feels like they’re running out of time.”

“You’re right, General Park.” Sehun says, hand on his chin as he contemplates. “I mean, Chanyeol hyung. You know, you should head down to eat. I’m hungry.”

“You want me to eat because you’re hungry? Do I look like your stomach?”

“Yes. You look like an empty stomach. Come on, now! Can you walk?” Sehun stands and goes beside him. Offering support just in case.

Chanyeol sits fully, feet touching the cold floor now. “I can stand, but I think I’m still limping. I can manage though.”

“We have to hurry. Baekhyun hyung might get here soon.”

“Why?” Chanyeol senses the urgency in his voice. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing, actually.” Sehun wraps an arm on his shoulder to help him get up. “But Baekhyun hyung wasn’t really called in the conference.”

Chanyeol laughs loudly, almost crouching down and holding his stomach, which is now grumbling. “You’re dead. Do you know that?”

“I know.” Sehun beams impishly as they walk to the door. “That’s why we have to hurry. I can’t let you see him murder me. But he’s an idiot. I mean, he was the one who told me it’s already eleven in the evening. And who, in this freaking hour, holds a meeting? Just when I thought I have a lame excuse.”

The cold and empty hall welcomes them when they stepped outside Chanyeol’s room. The ceilings are tall and white lights lit the corridor. Now that Chanyeol is fully awake, he can say that the building, just from the look of this hall, is high class. Maybe big elites who also deny the new world fund the rebels dramatically to show their opposition.

“This place is nice and cozy. How come this is a head quarter?” Chanyeol queries, curiosity leaking out from the way he looks at the place.

“To be honest, this building looks like an abandoned warehouse from the outside. Had to blend from what’s happening outside or else New World supporters might see us.”

“Aren’t people curious? What if they go inside to check if this might actually be a warehouse with full of explosives?”

Sehun assists Chanyeol to the elevator on the end of the hall and they walk slowly. Chanyeol sees all these mahagony-colored doors of the other rooms. Each with a red rectangular flag attached to it. A phrase is etched on the doors and it reads: _Red is the color of humanity_.

“If ever anyone goes inside, he will see nothing but an abandoned building. Unless they know the trap doors leading to our real headquarters.” Sehun explains, as presses the down button. “Anyway, if ever some of them found some trap doors, they will be led to another empty space. It will be harder this time to locate any trap door from there. It requires a password and the password machine is pretty hard to find.”

“Oh!” Chanyeol gawks as he tries to imagine the interior of the building.

The elevator bleeps and the doors parted, revealing a fuming Byun Baekhyun whose eyes are as lethal as the last bomb dropped. His mouth is pressed into a thin, hard line and his hands are balled angrily, veins visible with one look. Sehun gapes at him, mouth as round as ‘O’. Chanyeol stops too, heart racing fast though he knows he is innocent.

“You’re a dead meat, Oh Sehun.” Baekhyun spits, cheeks burning red in rage. His eyes continue to stare them down, moving from Chanyeol’s to Sehun’s. But when he is about to get out of the lift, the door closes once more. “Fuck!” They hear his fists slamming the metal doors.

Chanyeol and Sehun continue to gape at the elevator which is now shut close. Hearts still in their throats as they fear Baekhyun might come out of it any second. Sehun presses the down button to be sure.

“He’s really stupid. Don’t you think?” Sehun mutters under his laboured breath.

“I think so.”

Sehun crouches down to calm himself. “So you have a fetish over stupidity?”

“What?” Finally, Chanyeol breathes deeply. Though he scowls at how scared he was when it’s all Sehun’s fault.

Sehun grins, elbowing his side a little. “You love Baekhyun hyung even though he is this stupid.”

“Is he really this stupid?”

“He’s one of the brilliant generals that we have. He is part of our intelligence group and strategy committee. But you know, little things like this...”

Chanyeol gives him a look as he imagines Baekhyun barking commands and outlining blueprints for an attack. “He seemed the type though.”

“One more thing about, Baekhyun hyung, he is a man of pride. He hates his ego being touched. Like now, his mad because he thinks he was shamed in front of his man.” Sehun wriggles his eyebrows once more, teasing him.

Chanyeol would want to banter. Well, he really needs to banter and counter Sehun’s statement because none of it are true. He is supposed to deny those rumours he is hearing but something on the back of his mind tells him that it feels good being linked to General Byun. Like he is a trophy that boosts someone’s morale. In the end, Chanyeol keeps mum about the teases. Though he does not answer Sehun’s question directly, he does not refute them directly either.

The elevator bleeps once more. Then there is fuming Baekhyun, once more. Everything happens fast and the last thing Chanyeol recalls before he is pulled inside the lift is Sehun’s grunts as Baekhyun pulls his ear.

“You do know how far conference room is coming from our dormitories, you jerk!” Baekhyun stands between them, ranting. Chanyeol and Sehun look like kids who did something terrible while they do grocery shopping with their mom. Their heads are down, fingers lace together in front of them.

“I was just trying to give you fresh air. You haven’t moved since three –”

“Don’t talk to me you jerk! Keep your mouth shut or the next thing you’ll eat is my bullet.”

Chanyeol sees Sehun pouting and he swears that is one of the cutest thing he has seen his entire life. Chanyeol is about to extend his arm to give the younger a pat when Baekhyun speaks again.

“And You!”

Chanyeol gawks at Baekhyun through their reflection in the doors, fear evident in the wrinkles on his forehead and the widening of his already big eyes. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

“You should’ve told me you need Sehun so you could finally get out of that room and eat!” Baekhyun’s voice is a lot higher now compared to when he spoke to Sehun. Chanyeol feels hurt, also pouting.

“He’s jealous.” Sehun whispers, throwing him a side glance.

Baekhyun stomps his foot hard and then Sehun’s loud grunt follows. “What the freaking fudge, hyung!? That hurts!”

“One more word, Oh Sehun.” Baekhyun warns, voice low. His hand goes up to his side, his fingers almost touching the holster. He makes sure the other two see it. No one speaks so silence takes its liberty to fill the elevator until they all make their way down.

The three of them, led by Baekhyun, takes a series of turns around the hallways with the company of silence and fear that the next thing they might eat is a bullet. Chanyeol contains his gasps of awe and surprise whenever his eyes will see armoury rooms, big brown vaults, and technical rooms.

“We have time to familiarize you with the head quarter. After you eat.” Baekhyun says without looking back at them.

Chanyeol wants to ask if he is welcome here already considering that his loyalty might still be in question but he presses his lips close.

When they reach the end of a hall, they turn right and the cafeteria greets them in red glittering letters. The sounds pound from the inside and Chanyeol’s heart matches with the thumps of the bass as his stomach grumbles in hunger.

“The party has started already. Thanks to you General Park, we’re late.”

“Party?” Chanyeol unconsciously whispers then his eyes widen.

Baekhyun looks to him. “What?”

Chanyeol shakes his head as a response in fear of Baekhyun’s gun. All his life, he has never been afraid of someone except for his dad. But he unwillingly admits that Baekhyun gives him a different level of creep.

When they enter the cafeteria as thrice as big as the halls outside, Chanyeol sees familiar faces. There in the stage, is Kim Minseok and Kim Jongdae, Baekhyun’s friends, singing soulfully in their black tuxedos with their eyes closed. Their wonderful voices blend and the crowd looks captivated.

“Let’s go here.” Baekhyun ushers and the two tag behind him.

Chanyeol already knows from the way the silver spies talked to them two weeks ago in his basement. But he finds himself surprised when he sees Zhang Yixing of District V and Lu Han of District II sitting on the bar stools. Each with colored drinks in their hands. He huffs.

“You two are playing a dangerous game, do you know that?” Chanyeol says when he walks ahead of Baekhyun to get to his friends.

“General Park!” Lu Han almost chokes on his drinks.

“Chanyeol.” Yixing greets, a big smile on his face.

“Good old friends.” Chanyeol gathers them in a warm embrace, ignoring a throbbing pain from his shoulder and his side when the other two enclose him in a tight hug. “What the devil are you doing here?”

“I thought you know.” Lu Han raises an eyebrow as he offers Chanyeol a drink.

“I know. From the silver spies we had captured two weeks ago. I’m sad you didn’t tell me first hand.”

“We thought the general was on the other side. We can’t have you choose between us and your family.” Yixing says, his tone laced with genuine concern. “I’m sorry about your family, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol is silent for a moment, eyes down and contemplating about _nothing_. Lu Han brings his own hand and places it on his good shoulder, patting it gently. “We can survive this.”

“My father is not on the other side. He told me –”

“We know.” Yixing smiles at him. “We already know the day they were bombed. They fund our operations. We could’ve saved them. We were too late. I’m sorry.”

The heaviness Chanyeol carries is resurfacing again and it weighs his heart down. He starts to swallow big lumps on his throat to fight his tears from streaming again.

“All of us here lost someone, General Park. You are not alone in this grief.” It is Baekhyun who speaks, an arm around his shoulder. “We can be your family now, if that’ll make you feel better. We will overcome this together.”

All of their eyes rest on Baekhyun’s face. He looks genuine and it makes Chanyeol smile. A tear fell before he heaves a deep breath and exhales loudly, widening the smile on his face. “Thank you.”

“But please.” Baekhyun sits down on the stool. “Come here. Eat first. You must be so hungry now.” This time, Chanyeol obliges. “Beef strips, chicken legs, pork belly, and two cups or rice, please.” Baekhyun orders for him.

“Are you going to watch me eat?”

“Nope. I’m just going to make sure you eat.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes though his face plasters a smile and it makes Chanyeol stare. This is the smile the rebel has when he looks genuinely happy while entertaining the guests at Park’s House. It seems so long ago. “What? Something on my face, General?”

“Are you going to keep that general thing up? It sounds awkward, to be honest.” Chanyeol’s mouth waters when he speaks as he smells his dinner for the first time in three days. He would thank Baekhyun for all of these delicious dishes later.

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“Chanyeol would be fine.” He says nonchalantly as he feasts over his food, stuffing the meat inside his mouth.

“What happened to Sehun?” Lu Han asks them, taking a seat beside Chanyeol. “What? Are you suddenly mute?”

Sehun’s lips remain close though he gestures an ‘L’ sign and mimics gun shooting, placing his hand on his head, his pointing finger touching his crown.

“His Baekhyun hyung says if he makes another sound, he will eat his bullet.” Chanyeol explains with his mouth full.

Yixing and Lu Han laughs. They clink their drinks together in amusement as they enjoy watching Sehun’s struggle.

Baekhyun looks at the younger general. Scratching his head he says, “Fine you can speak. But we still have to talk later.” He throws him one last dagger look.

Sehun smiles brightly and walks over to Chanyeol, caging him in his arms. “Thanks for speaking for me Chanyeol hyung.” He nuzzles his head on the fabric of Chanyeol’s sleeve.

“Chanyeol hyung? Since when did you get close?” Baekhyun puckers his lips in disgust.

“Since you went to the conference room.” Sehun releases Chanyeol and laughs hard, ears going pink. Chanyeol stops for a moment to have his share of laughter but halts immediately when a thought passed.

Baekhyun is not stupid enough to go to the conference room at this hour. He was just too preoccupied of the things he wanted to say earlier that he bit Sehun’s trap. Maybe he was too bothered that he let his feet take him wherever.

“Ya, Sehunnie.” Chanyeol utters, slightly looking at Baekhyun’s weary face. “You might spread panic if you keep on sending people on conference room at an unwanted hours. You should stop it.” He resumes to his eating.

“Fine. But I’m doing that because of Chanyeol hyung.” Sehun hooks his arm at Lu Han’s and Yixing’s and urges them to the dance floor. The crowd is still lost at the singers’ serenade. “Let’s leave the lovers be.” He adds, voice low and soft but still loud enough for Baekhyun and Chanyeol to hear.

When they are left alone, Baekhyun grabs a wine then fills his glass. Before bringing it to his lips he says, “Fine. I’ll call you Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol chews his food, grinning. He grabs Baekhyun’s glass and takes a swig, earning a yelp from the other.

“That’s mine!”

Chanyeol smirks at him. “Tss. Jealous.”

 

*

 

“We have two armouries on each floor.” Baekhyun explains as he walks beside Chanyeol. His hands has been motioning air balls since thirty-minutes ago, right after Chanyeol finished his food.

“So, a total of 16?” Chanyeol munches a doughnut as he tries to memorize the floor plan and the building and the rooms. He is pretty quick, considering that he has been trained for this. Chanyeol feels proud whenever Baekhyun will make a comment about how much of a fast-learner he is.

“Wrong,” Baekhyun says and it makes Chanyeol pout. “We have twenty armouries. We have another one on the basement, another on the rooftop, and another two on the lobby. Easy access for those who need reinforcements outside.”

“Alright.” Chanyeol nods. “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask you this since earlier.”

They turn to the left of the corridor. They are currently on the third floor where technical rooms nest – or more like an _observatory_. These are the offices of the spies who monitor and track the marked elites in their houses and offices. From the outside, one can see through the transparent glasses which run from the ceilings to the floors, the big screens that are divided into four. Each quadrant corresponds to a hidden camera that were successfully installed by rebels.

“What is it?”

“Are you sure I’m allowed here? Are there no initiations?” Chanyeol asks as his takes his last bite. He sucks his fingers clean before wiping them on the fabric of his pants.

“What do you think of us? A fraternity?” Baekhyun enters a room. He switches the lights on and it reveals computers each of the corner and a large table in the middle.

“Well, you could say that. What I am trying to say is that, you can’t let just people in here, me included. What if I’m on the other side?”

Baekhyun sits on one of the rolling chairs then faces Chanyeol, one eyebrow furrowed. “Well, are you on the other side?”

“Nope. But –”

“That’s all the assurance we need. Besides, you aren’t marked. No one will know you’re here so we can kill you anytime you do something malicious. So beware, General Park.”

Chanyeol takes a seat too and twists himself as he spins the chair around. “I thought we’re done with the General thing?”

“What would you do then?” Baekhyun flashes his flirty smile again and Chanyeol feels he is up for that game.

Chanyeol bites his lips, his eyes rest on the rebel’s. “Tell me, what should I do?”

Baekhyun only manages a roll of his eyes and it makes Chanyeol laugh. For a moment, both of them fall into silence as their eyes wander everywhere, avoiding the each other’s gazes.

“Are we allowed here?” Chanyeol asks, returning his eyes to the rebel’s face.

Baekhyun raises a brow as he meets his eyes, another playful grin on his face. “This is my office. I’m sure I am allowed. I’m not sure about you.”

Chanyeol huffs before examining the interior of the room. Stack of papers are neatly piled atop his desk. Wooden chairs are properly arranged around the table while the computer chairs, except for the two that they are currently sitting in, are resting in front of the computers. Two white lamps on the far end of the room kills the darkness in the room. The walls look plain with a beige-color paint yet it adds to the ambiance of _seriousness_ and _professionalism_. There is a huge shelf on one side with books about World Wars 1, 2, and 3. Books about history and economics but Chanyeol’s eyes hits on three books about family.

“Tell me,” Chanyeol speaks after a while. “Have you lost someone too?”

Baekhyun’s answer comes quickly, no hesitation but the pain is just as strong. “Yes.”

“When? And how? If you don’t mind me asking.” Chanyeol pushes for more, his eyes still on the beige-colored ceiling.

“I lost my family in a fire. All of them, burned alive. I watched them and I heard them scream and twist in pain and I couldn’t do anything.” Baekhyun’s voice is far from the general that he is. Soft, melancholic, and vulnerable as if he is seeing the horrors again before his eyes. He is slouching down in his chair for his head to lay on the back rest.

“Why? What happened? Are they –”

“It was under a general’s orders because my family refused to be marked. We are part of the elite society in South Korea. Maybe that’s the reason I have always loved winter.”

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says, his voice is laced with dread and empathy and pain. “When was this?”

“Three years ago.”

“How did you feel about… did you want to avenge them? Where’s that general now?”

Baekhyun does not answer and Chanyeol does not rush. Chanyeol knows he needs to stop asking because he is touching a very fresh wound but there is a pull inside him that urges him to know more about the rebel. At the back of his mind, he says that both of them can share the same grief, the same pain. And overcome them. _Together_.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer that.” Chanyeol looks at him and smile. Both their eyes reflect the same pain and anger of the most tragic day of their lives. Yet both their lips mirror each other’s smile, as if hope can still be a part of their vocabulary.

“I have always loved winter. At least you can’t feel anything anymore. Fire warms you, your heart, your soul. But they consume. They destroy.” Baekhyun’s eyes never leave Chanyeol’s as he rolls the words off his tongue.

Chanyeol returns the gesture despite the tug in his heart. “I have always loved winter. When everything is white like something pure and clean can still exist in this world. Winter brings people closer together because we rely on each other’s warmth. I don’t know but I think I would choose feeling even if it means pain. At least I know I am still alive.”

“Who would want to live at this time?” Baekhyun counters, voice getting sadder.

“Me. I would still want to live at this moment. I would still want to live.”

Baekhyun sighs, closing his eyes. “Despite the pain?”

“Despite the pain.”

“Even if you will witness every single person you love killed?” Baekhyun challenges.

That halts Chanyeol. His forehead creases as he thinks. “I wouldn’t want to witness every single person I love to be killed. That’s why I want to live so I can fight. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m saying right now. It’s hard and three days ago, I wanted to die too. My family was bombed and I watch their bodies fall from the sky, burning. I was there and I was just watching.”

Chanyeol sees Baekhyun’s closed eyes streaming tears and his hands that are balled as if he cannot take things anymore. He sees him muffle his own sobs by inhaling as quietly as he can and exhaling long.

“I’m sorry Baekhyun that we are the ones to witness their deaths. But like my father told me, there should sacrifices for the greater good.”

“My family is more than a sacrificial lamb.” Baekhyun sobs angrily. He brings the back of his palms to his face to wipe his tears.

Chanyeol is taken aback. Those were his very words when Kyungsoo brought up the words of his father to him.

“And so is my family and the other families out there who rely on people like you. So you have to –”

“Don’t lecture me about not giving up and that I should continue to fight. Because I am fighting and I will continue to fight.” Baekhyun says. His words are biting but his eyes are soft, red, and swollen.

“But who do you fight for, Baekhyun? Why do you fight?”

“I fight for the people I love. I fight for the people I lost. I fight for everything the New World took from me.” There is conviction in his words. Full of rage.

Chanyeol only plasters a soft smile. This time, he lowers his gaze. “I fight for the people I love. For those people who have loved ones taken away from them. You see, Baekhyun, everyone has something to fight for. But don’t fight only for yourself.”

“How can you say this?” Baekhyun’s next words come out as hoarse whisper, his eyes continue to stream down more tears yet he does not bother hiding it from Chanyeol who can clearly see his display of fragility. “Wouldn’t you want to avenge your family?”

“My father told me that it is our utmost responsibility to cure the cycle of vengeance. The cycle of hate. If I kill the people behind my family’s death, surely, their children will haunt me too. If I got killed, then there would be people to haunt them. War will never end.”

“So you forgive?” Baekhyun challenges once more, his swollen eyes never leaving Chanyeol’s.

Chanyeol is unsure of the answer. If ever he meets the killers, what would he do? He does not know, so he settles for a safer answer _for now_. “Easier said than done,” he admits. “I don’t know. But at least I’m sure they won’t die in my hands.”

Baekhyun huffs loudly. “Meaning, you will let law take its justice?”

“You could say that.” Chanyeol shrugs his shoulders and then sneers at the throb of his wound. “Ouch.”

“You don’t understand the way of the world, General Park.” Baekhyun almost laughs and it could almost pass as a mockery.

Chanyeol does the same. “You don’t understand how humanity should be, General Byun.”

Baekhyun stares at him, at his eyes. Chanyeol starts to feel uneasy because he cannot understand the meaning behind that look. It is as if Baekhyun is seeing through him, examining him. For a moment, Chanyeol feels naked.

“You amaze me with your words, General Park.” Baekhyun says after a long silence, his finger scratching his chin as he contemplates. “Let’s see how long you can keep this fire when all you’re going to witness are deaths and brutality. _Winter_.”

“This is the time where you need to keep your fire lit. Winter can be longer than we expect. I won’t lose my fire in the process.” Chanyeol’s tone is full of promises and Baekhyun smiles a little.

“You have a way with your words, General. No wonder you are so famous in the districts.”

“Sorry, these are one of the assets my father gave me.” Chanyeol wriggles his eyebrows playfully. “I can see that it’s affecting you too.”

“I must admit, I am really affected and touched by how dedicated you are in saving a world that is beyond saving.” Baekhyun has stopped crying yet he still keeps on sniffing.

“I can see that. No wonder you aren’t denying the rumours of us being together. Are you enjoying that, _Baek_?”

Baekhyun chortles, his puffy eyes crinkling in delight. “You aren’t denying that, either. What difference do we make, Yeol?”

 _Yeol_ . Chanyeol can feel his heart stammering against his chest. He can feel his core warming up at that syllable. From General Park to Chanyeol to _Yeol_. He gawks at the rebel in disbelief and in awe and it is too late to shift his gaze so he continues feasting at the sight of Baekhyun who is in flirt mode on with his infamous grin like he had not cried a few seconds ago. Chanyeol admits that even with puffy eyes, Baekhyun looks so captivating.

Chanyeol almost wonders if rebels are all like this fast in shifting moods. One moment they are crying then the next thing they are flirting like Baekhyun. Or like Sehun, one moment they are playful then they become stiff and stern, then back to playful again.

But just as he assesses them, he realizes he is also like that. One moment who does not want to talk to people then after some more hours of sleep, he feels light and is suddenly motivated to lecture about humanity and life. He feels _weird_. He wonders why.

“Now stop staring at me like that, General Park.” Baekhyun says, breaking him out of his trance. “I thought you are straight.”

“Such foolishness in believing in that.” Chanyeol mutters his defense. _His lie_. Chanyeol acknowledges the fact how the rebel ruined his thoughts since their first encounter. “One more of your General Park and I swear…” He impishly threatens. Clearly, Chanyeol is enjoying himself.

“What then?” Baekhyun presses with a glint in his eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

Baekhyun laughs and his laughter, Chanyeol believes, is very light-hearted and contagious. “Don’t reinforce me, General Park.”

Chanyeol laughs too. “I’m going to make sure it’ll look like a punishment to you.”

“With a scene like this, I don’t see the reason why we have to deny the rumours. You know how to flirt too, General!”

“Don’t test me, Byun Baekhyun.”

“I’m not testing you. I’m teasing you, General Park.” Baekhyun is now crouching a little in his seat, holding his stomach and grasping for air.

Chanyeol grins before standing up. He walks to Baekhyun and suddenly pulls his arm, yanking him then spinning him around before pushing his back on the wall. Chanyeol plants his hand on the either side of the rebel’s head, cornering him.

“You’re a bad boy, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol smirks, slowly dipping his head down, aiming for the rebel’s lips. He sees Baekhyun taking a deep breath before closing his own eyes.

Baekhyun inches further and Chanyeol struggles to hold his laughter. He redirects his own lips, touching the rebel’s nose swiftly and softly and lightly yet it still gives him those good shivers down his spine. His lips linger for a while and it takes him a great strength to break the contact.

When Baekhyun flutters his eyes open, Chanyeol sees him so flustered, cheeks tinted red, as well as his nose. The rebel’s eyes suddenly turn cold, throwing Chanyeol one of those dagger looks. He huffs in annoyance and Chanyeol finds it cute.

“I have a feeling that we’ll be early tomorrow so I’ll be leaving now, General Byun.” Chanyeol chortles, pinching Baekhyun’s nose.

Chanyeol backs away and heads to the door but Baekhyun remains planted on his spot, still heaving deep breaths to control the bubbling frustration inside – or the fluttering of his _heart_? Chanyeol is not so sure but he knows he is happy whatever it is. At least he has the same effect the rebel has on him.

“Good night, Baekhyun!” He says, without turning around to see if he follows. Chanyeol breaks into a wider smile as he closes the door shut and walks to his room.

 

*

 

The next morning, Chanyeol wakes up to his usual nightmare. Burning bodies falling from the sky. Tears threaten to fall yet again and he feels weak to hold his guard up so he cries silently as he pulls the sheets to warm him.

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice orders then a small poke bits Chanyeol’s arm.

Chanyeol almost freezes in his spot before he manages to say, “What the fu –”

“Don’t want the fuck me.” Baekhyun says, his face all serious when Chanyeol turns to his side to look at him. “This is a serum. It increases oxytocin to somehow alter your mood.” He explains as he pushes the needle to his skin deeply, pressing the content of the syringe into Chanyeol’s system.

Common sense says that Chanyeol should not accept the serum. It could be a poison or a drug. But there is a looming feeling inside him. Something that speaks _trust_.

“Can you, at least, tell me beforehand?” Chanyeol asks instead, furrowing his brows and scowling a little at the small pinch and at the shock. “What if I don’t want to be injected?”

“Everyone here takes this every week. We can’t lose focus in the middle of the war. You took this one four days ago, remember that night when you call me a prostitute?” There is bitterness in Baekhyun’s words and he rolls his eyes in annoyance. He pulls the syringe out carelessly.

Chanyeol winces yet he breaks into a smile and for a moment, he wonders if it is because of Baekhyun’s whining or the serum taking effect on his system. “What time is it?”

“Still early. It’s just –”

“It’s still early to be irritated. Come here!” Chanyeol grasps Baekhyun’s, pulling him down and the latter falls atop him with a loud and annoyed grunt.

“What the fu –”

“Don’t want the fuck me, General Byun. It’s early and it’s winter. I need warmth.” Chanyeol encloses his strong arms around the twisting and protesting Baekhyun and closes his eyes, as if to go back to sleep. “Don’t move much, Baek. My wounds are still healing.”

“What are you doing? What if someone sees us?” Baekhyun hisses. He plants his hands on either side of Chanyeol’s torso to push himself up but still rendered helpless by the strong arms.

Chanyeol holds his laughter because Baekhyun is just as strong as him. He can free himself from his hold yet he remains wriggling, looking helpless and annoyed. Clearly, Baekhyun is also enjoying himself at their contact, hiding his glee in the façade of irritation.

“So what? You aren’t denying the rumours so they can’t be that surprised seeing us like this. Now please, Baek. Stop moving, I’m still sleepy.” Chanyeol murmurs softy then yawns. He places his chin atop Baekhyun’s head, inhaling once more his scent that intoxicates him since their first encounter. His palms rest on Baekhyun’s back.

It takes a moment for Baekhyun to stop wriggling under Chanyeol’s hold and when he does, Baekhyun positions his head, placing his ear just above the other’s heart. He palms the fabric of the soft mattress and moves in a more comfortable position. Their legs intertwine and crotches pressed together.

Under normal circumstances, both of them will be both aroused at the contact but they are overwhelmed by the genuineness of the touch, the searing intimacy burning not their bodies but their hearts, and the comfortable silence that laces them together.

“You’re having nightmare again, Yeol.”

For a moment, Chanyeol wonders if it is a question or a statement. But he resolves in choosing the latter. There is no point in denying his panic and his tears earlier. There is _also_ no point of denying that his heart flutters once more at the endearment. Baekhyun can directly hear the change of pace in his heart.

Unconsciously, Chanyeol moves his hands on Baekhyun’s back, as if to pull the other closer. “How about you? Are you having nightmares too?”

“ _Always_. Ever since the day that happened.” It is not surprising to hear the sadness behind his words. Baekhyun is like a child trapped inside a hard cocoon. Too stiff and stern and proud and dangerous on the outside, yet as soft as a flower on the inside.

“What do you do?” Chanyeol continues asking because he wants to hear the rebel’s voice. He does not know whether it is the effect of the serum or Baekhyun’s voice is just so soothing. Soothing despite the sadness and grief.

“I have to endure my nightmares alone. For the past three years, I was alone fighting my inner battles. Not even the serum can do much.”

“Thank you,” Chanyeol manages to say, pressing his palms harder on the rebel’s back, a gesture of gratitude and reassurance. His voice is nothing but soft and melancholic and warm.

“Hmn?” Baekhyun purrs, sounding sleepy. Chanyeol could feel him yawning against his shirt, Baekhyun’s jaw opening up as he inhales deeply then closing it shut.

“I don’t have to endure my battles alone because of you. I can never be more thankful.”

Silence responds to the last words spoken yet it is a comforting one. Always a comforting one between them and Chanyeol shudders at the _possible reasons_. It is like they are old friends who have shared so much over the countless years. Yet they barely know each other. They share nothing but loss, sadness, pain, and grief. Both longing for their family and fighting against the New World.

Seconds of silence turn to minutes. Like silence is an acquaintance they have not invited yet they are till grateful when it came. It heightens the impact of every word that is said, making them more meaningful. Chanyeol’s beating heart against Baekhyun’s ear screams louder than any shout anyone could make.

The only problem is, Chanyeol does not know what his own heart screams at the moment. _What does Baekhyun hear_?

But like all stories written out there, there are also people who would break this meaningful silence. Sometimes because of necessity, sometime for fun. However, in the case of the youngest general of the twelfth district who is nothing but mischievous, it is both.

There is a loud knock on the door but Baekhyun and Chanyeol are not given much time to reposition themselves as General Oh Sehun enters the room without further preamble. His smile turns into a smirk upon seeing them as they are.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Sehun crosses his arms on his chest, leaning on the far side of the wall, eyeing them meaningfully. “Just when I thought you two were breaking up?”

Baekhyun tries to get up but Chanyeol’s strong hold does not give in. The latter gives him a wide grin too and Baekhyun hisses in annoyance, cheeks glowing pink. Helpless, Baekhyun lies down once more and as if putting up a show, he embraces Chanyeol too, arms diving between the mattress and his back.

Chanyeol is taken aback by the gesture and he feels Baekhyun scoffing in triumph. The rebel gives a look of _I can play your game in front of Sehun, don’t cry when you lose_ . Chanyeol grins in return. Here they are again, very quick in changing _moods_. One moment, they sound forlorn and now, flirt mode on.

Baekhyun presses his ear once more above Chanyeol’s heart and looks directly at Sehun. “There’s another break up?” Baekhyun’s eyes widen to tease dramatically. “I thought it was just you and General Lu Han?”

“WHAT… THE… FU –” Chanyeol gapes, body almost jerking against the mattress. He looks incredulously at Sehun who is now stunned, jaw dropping at Baekhyun’s comment. “You and Lu Han? Lu Han of District II? The general? You two are dating? I mean, wow! Wait, I can’t… What’s happening? Lu Han is my best friend and he didn’t… even tell me a thing?”

“General Lu Han won’t tell you a thing because you’re an irritating homophobic before!” Baekhyun snarls without giving him a glance.

Chanyeol’s eyes almost pops out of its sockets in disbelief. “I’m a what? Homo… what? Me? A homophobic? If I was then I should have never kissed you in my house!”

“We haven’t broken up.” Sehun recovers after a while, plastering his grin yet again at the warring _couple_ – _at least that is what he knows_ . “At least, I wasn’t that paranoid and cry baby when my man fell asleep for three days.” He counters with a proud smile on his face yet he thinks it is not enough. Sehun clears his throat before speaking again, mimicking Baekhyun’s high tone. “ _What’s going to happen to General Park? What are we supposed to do? Should I wake him? Should I kiss him so he could wake up? Tell me doctor, what are the chances he’s gonna wake up now? How about if I –”_

Sehun’s next words are halted when he was unable to dodge the pillow thrown by Baekhyun himself. Chanyeol is nothing but laughter now, arching his back to relax his stomach muscles. By this time, Baekhyun has sat up on the side of the bed, still burning in crimson. He smacks Chanyeol on his torso for too much laughing and gives him a disgusting look.

“As one of the senior generals, I might have to impose a rule that no one should enter General Park’s room without my permission. Failure to obey orders will result to his immediate deployment to Busan,” Baekhyun speaks mechanically, eyes boring into Sehun’s threateningly.

Sehun’s grin just grows wider. “Reminding you, General Byun, Article II Section 1 of Red Blood Manifesto that abuse of power can result to termination of title and service and immediate deployment to Busan.” He wriggles his eye brows playfully.

Chanyeol holds his laughter. His eyes twinkle in delight as he watches their exchange of banters and jests. It is Baekhyun versus Sehun now. The youngest general being the mischievous kid that he is, Chanyeol can easily predict what could be happening next. It is either Baekhyun backing down and accepting defeat or Sehun getting another wave of death threats with a gun pointed at him. Chanyeol waits in anticipation.

“I am proud that after so many years of fighting against the damned Silvers, you have actually managed to memorize our manifesto. Though it is true that abuse of power will result to termination of title and service and deployment to Busan, shooting you won’t.” Baekhyun produces his gun from the back in one blink, eyes glinting in delight. “Who’s laughing now?”

Sehun crouches down upon seeing his pistol aimed directly at his face. They can see him struggle as he travels his hands to cover his face then his chest then his torso then his face again. He does  as he sprints toward the door.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol laugh in chorus. The rebel laying back one more on the bed but this time, he settles on Chanyeol’s side, a little too near. Arms brushing against one another. Chanyeol smiles and thinks about wrapping his arm around the other’s waist and go back to sleep.

Baekhyun has placed his gun on the bedside table when they hear Sehun again.

“Hey wait!” He shouts, opening the door a little so his voice could come in. Sehun does not dare show any of his skin, lest it might be shot. “I forgot to say that we are needed in the conference room in two hours.”

“If this is one of your dirty tri –” Baekhyun threatens, as he hides his laughter under the seriousness of his tone.

“This is about the Chinese Elites.”

Baekhyun stops, his face getting real serious in an instant. He exhales, scratching his head. “Alright, we’ll be ready.”

The door finally closes, Chanyeol finds the opportunity to ask. “Chinese Elites? What about them? Are they marked?”

Baekhyun exhales once more, closing his eyes as he explains. “Wu, Zhang, Lu, and Huang. They are four of the richest families in China. Business Tycoons. Surely, killing them will create panic and will affect the stock markets. The New World can’t afford that.”

Chanyeol’s ears ring at the names of the two families. “Lu and Zhang? You mean, Lu Han’s family and Zhang Yixing’s?”

“Yes. They sent their sons here to ask for help. They fund the rebels and they also denounce the cause of the New World. Now, they need us. Intel says they are being tortured. They will be the first batch to have the _Riddance_ if they fail to comply with their demands.”

“ _Riddance?_ ” Chanyeol thinks out loud as he remembers the word. “My father told me about it. Purging? What exactly will happen?”

Chanyeol sees Baekhyun taking a deep breath before answering. The rebel looks troubled again. “Do you remember Hitler’s Holocaust that started 300 years ago? If I remember that was 1939?” Baekhyun glances up at him in 1939.

“I’m not sure about the year but I know it’s World War II.” Chanyeol answers him, locking his gaze. For a moment, he becomes lost at the rebel’s stare.

Baekhyun’s head is tilted to the side, half of his face almost buried on the pillow. His neck strains, revealing tight muscles and the ridges around his collar bone. Chanyeol almost wants to gasp at the sight. Baekhyun looks stunning, with the sunlight filtered by the high windows of his room make his brown hair glow.

It is when the rebel speaks, that Chanyeol is brought back to the planet again, away from his ethereal thoughts. “The same thing will happen,” Baekhyun says with fear clouding his eyes. “Unmarked people will be… killed.”

“In what way?” Chanyeol asks further, also feeling the gravity of the matter. “Are they going to bomb us?”

World War III has ended yet more lives are dying and many more will be dead. The war has ended yet many of them are still fighting for things they think are worth fighting for.

“Humanity has progressed over the years, General Park.” Baekhyun looks away, he closes his eyes and inhales a very deep breath before speaking about his sentiments. “We are not battling anymore against guns and ships and bombs. We clash against ourselves. That is how the New World tears us apart.”

“What do you mean?”

Baekhyun scoffs but a smile plays on his lips, as if it is obvious already. “Do you really believe that the rebels that have captured are dead already?”

It is undeniable that Chanyeol is at a loss. The rebel’s words come back to him with a big slap in his face: _You still don’t know the way of the world_. His face is nothing but confused so he voices one of his most honest thoughts. “I still don’t understand.”

Baekhyun stands up carefully. He dusts off his pants and look down on him. “Get ready in an hour. We still need to eat before proceeding to the meeting. I’ll be back here, General.” He smiles at him softly before taking small steps toward the door.

Chanyeol furrows his brows, still confused. His heart is beating loudly against his chest as he anticipates the coming days. However, as he contemplates, he wonders why would Baekhyun be needed in the meeting if he already knows everything? Then Baekhyun’s words come to him again, _alright, we’ll be ready._ He voices out once more the thing in his mind, “What would the meeting be about? Am I really needed there?”

Baekhyun turns around again, placing a hand on his waist. His body blocks the sunlight coming through the windows, creating a halo around his head. Chanyeol struggles to keep his focus because he looks dazzling and ethereal and so so beautiful.

“You’re part of us now, General Park. I hope you remember. You are General Park of District VIII. You have the same power as I do as we are equal in rank. Rebels from your district are under your command and since your father is a Senior General, that means you enjoy a little more privilege. We’ll discuss everything more, but please get ready.” Baekhyun says again mechanically. His tone and his words are firm and formal. Yet Chanyeol finds his stance cute and he can literally see that soft smile playing on the rebel’s lips.

“Four.” Chanyeol says, laughing a little when he sees Baekhyun’s face frowning in confusion. “Come here.” He orders.

Baekhyun obliges willingly and walks to the side of his bed, waiting for an explanation. “What four?”

Without a preamble, Chanyeol pulls Baekhyun down again in surprise and the rebel topples on top of him with a yelp. His head hitting Chanyeol’s chest hard. Baekhyun manages only a grunt because he does not have the time to protest when Chanyeol rolls them over and the rebel’s body is pinned down by the other’s strong limbs, caging him close.

Their face is _this close_ again and Chanyeol can feel Baekhyun’s breath fanning his face. It feels warm. Warm enough to awaken the tiny butterflies in his stomach. It is too late to realize that he is smiling while Baekhyun is nothing but a surprised face. Eyes wide and gaping up at him.

“You said General Park four times.” Chanyeol explains, a grin on his lips.

“Get off me!” Baekhyun commands but makes no move. He remains pressed down on the mattress, sandwiched between the cushion and Chanyeol’s body.

Chanyeol sighs in triumph. He is starting to love seeing a flustered and a vulnerable Baekhyun every day. “Just admit you’re enjoying this as much as I do.”

This time, Baekhyun breaks into a wide smile. And it is not his usual teasing and mocking smile. It is soft and warm and _genuine_. “Oh, I do enjoy this General Park.”

“Five.” Chanyeol smirks. He is about to say something more when Baekhyun suddenly closes their distance.

Chanyeol is the one pinning the other down though he openly admits that he is the one rendered helpless. Baekhyun’s mouth is too good for him to savour.

Baekhyun kisses his upper lip in a tenderly way, soft but pressing and eager. His hands, this time, are the ones to enclose Chanyeol’s waist, pulling him closer. He massages his back hard yet going gentle when his fingers are close to Chanyeol’s wounds. In his shoulder and in his side, like the rebel knows his body very much. For the umpteenth time, Chanyeol warms at the gesture, his heart fluttering in ways he cannot explain.

Soon, there are tongue and teeth included. Baekhyun presses his tongue on Chanyeol’s lips to part them open so he can feast over the caves of his mouth. Chanyeol is too weak to resist. He tugs Baekhyun’s lower lip gently and it earns him a pleasuring moan that reverberates in his spine down to his core.

Their tongues are clashing fervently even before Chanyeol’s mind can tell him that they are. He can feel Baekhyun’s licking his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Though his eyes are closed, Chanyeol does not deny that it just rolled at the back of his head. His heart thumps louder as his skin sear at their contact. Chanyeol wants to grab Baekhyun’s wrists to raise them up his head so he can pin him down harder but the rebel’s hands rummaging his back feels so good. Making his resolve, he settles his own hands ransacking the skin underneath Baekhyun’s shirt. He palms the ridges of his ribs and his waist to earn more of his wonderful sound of sighs.

“Yeool,” Baekhyun breathes against his mouth before putting some distance to get some air. His breaths are ragged and shallow and hot. “There are still a lot to know about me before you go kissing me like this.” He smiles, still panting. His hands stay on Chanyeol’s back, massaging and touching.

Chanyeol’s dark orbs are glinting as his gaze pierces through Baekhyun’s eyes. Maybe it is the trick of the light, when Chanyeol creases his forehead a little because hesitation flickers in Baekhyun’s eyes. Hesitation mixed with fragility and openness and remorse Chanyeol cannot quite comprehend. Maybe he is right after all, Baekhyun is nothing but soft on the inside amidst the strong shell of dexterity.

Chanyeol slowly lets the fire from his insides die, leaving him with a gnawing ache of frustration. He brings his thumb to wipe Baekhyun’s mouth, removing all the saliva smothered from the corner of his lips from the intensity of their kiss. He plasters a warm smile after then he dives once more to capture his lips, kissing it more carefully, his mouth more relaxed compare to the tension a moment ago.

“We can learn each other on the process.” Chanyeol says, getting off of Baekhyun. His feet touch the cold floor once more, reminding him of winter.

Baekhyun laughs a little, biting his lip in glee. “Fine, General Park. If this is your way of courting me. Then so be it.”

“Huh?” Chanyeol gasps dramatically, putting a hand on his heart as he stands up to get ready. “Who says I’m courting you?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, thinking he is humiliated in front of the man he just kissed. “I’m sorry? Isn’t that what you mean?”

“You’ll be the one to court me. Let’s wait if I will say yes, eventually.” Chanyeol wriggles his eyebrows playfully in response, making Baekhyun even more flustered.

“Fine!” He scoffs, also standing up. He walks to the door. “I’ll court you. But I’ll be the top.” Baekhyun winks at him before exiting his room with a soft thud.

“Top?”

 

***

 

**THE RESISTANCE**

Chanyeol strips himself naked as he enters the hot shower for the first time in five days. The glass wall separating the shower and the toilet blurs at the downpour of hot water and hot steam. Chanyeol hastily spurts some shampoo on his hand to apply on his head, massaging it with his fingers as if to clear his mind.

So many things has happened in five days in which three of these, he was knocked out unconscious. The serum, if it serves its purpose right, is very much effective because no matter how Chanyeol brings his family in his mind, he does not feel like breaking down again. Yes, he feels sad and that enormous void is still in his heart but he cannot simply feel that painful pang. For a moment, he does not know if he should be thankful about this or not. After all, he needs to mourn over the loss of the ones he loves.

 _But maybe Baekhyun is right_ , another side of his mind counters. No one can lose focus at times like this. They are at war. Breaking down should be the last thing to do. There are a lot of people that need saving.

Chanyeol scrubs his body eagerly to get rid of the dirt he has accumulated over the past week. He cringes at the thought that Baekhyun has smelled him in his _unclean_ and _unattractive state_ and cringes more that the rebel had made no comment about it. It would feel a lot better if he voiced it out rather than halt himself from holding his vomit when Chanyeol’s scent lingered on his nose. Poor soap, it has thinned significantly from Chanyeol’s srubbing.

Chanyeol smiles as he catches himself thinking about Baekhyun again. He has been into so many women and he knows the gesture of a girl who returns his affection. Baekhyun is no different. His smiles, his touches, and his kisses speak so much of how he wants Chanyeol too. But unlike the others who wants him for his body and reputation, there is a tinge of care and genuineness in the way Baekhyun looks at him, in the way he worries.

He remembers Sehun’s parody of Baekhyun’s whines: _What’s going to happen to General Park? What are we supposed to do? Should I wake him?_ Chanyeol asks himself, why does the rebel care that much? They just have known each other for more than a week.

 _It cannot possibly be the serum!_ Chanyeol mentally screams as he washes the lathes on his skin, scrubbing himself once more. Then just as he lets the hot shower stream the bubbles and white lathes down his feet, it hits him.

Baekhyun lost his family the way Chanyeol did in a fire. He watched them burn before his eyes the way Chanyeol did and they were not able to do anything. If there is a connection they share – it is the desire to destroy the New World that stole their loved ones from them. This connection is a strong one, even for them who barely know each other.

Tragedy, pain, grief, and longing are strong binders after all. He smiles once more, heart skipping another beat at the thought of overcoming this horror. _Together_.

Chanyeol grabs his towel and dries himself as he steps out. Just as he is about to ask for clothing, he sees a red hoodie, black pants, and thick pair of socks folded neatly at the foot of his bed. He beams widely because it is no doubt that it is Baekhyun’s doing.

After dressing, he attends to the suitcase he brought with him from his house. His hair is still dripping so he grabs his towel again, afraid to wet the documents inside. He enters the password and the lids open with a soft clink. Chanyeol runs through the files.

On the top of everything, there is a brown parchment, seemingly torn from a notebook and intentionally placed there, seemingly serving as an introduction for the documents inside. Chanyeol’s heart picks up speed when he sees the carefully handwritten words. He can never forget the handwriting of his father.

 

**_THE WAR_ **

_I declared war with the devil_

_Cannot stand any longer –_

_The vilest of things_

_But as the day of the battle came_

_No red men with horns and tails came._

_It was just me on the ground. I was alone._

_I did not think the devil was powerful enough_

_To turn me against myself_

_Even until now, I am fighting a war_

_I don’t want to lose_

_Yet I don’t think I’ll be happy if I win._

~ _General Park, D. VIII_

_Day 18 of the New World_

_The day I started resistance_

 

Chanyeol cannot forget how his father would write poems for him to decipher. The nuances of his political stances always hidden at the lines of each stanza and this poem is no different. Chanyeol ransacks his mind for a meaning he could attach to make sense of what his father had written. It takes him some moments before the words of his father echo back to him.

_When you fight for the right things, you fight against the things you love. Sometimes, you fight against yourself._

And a connection was made. _The devil was powerful enough to turn me against myself._

Chanyeol stares at the paper longer with no particular reason at all. His fingers run through the paper as if feeling his father on the words. He brings himself to wail yet no tears came and it is rather frustrating, bringing yourself to cry when you can’t.

Then, Baekhyun’s words came crashing to him, heightening his fear of everything. _We clash against ourselves_. Chanyeol understands the meaning of the words and the parallels Gen. Park and Baekhyun made but he cannot bring himself to understand where they are coming from. What does it really mean when you fight against yourself?

More questions gush through him and Chanyeol feels suffocated because of his lack of answers. He has not seen the sun in five days and wonders what has happened over the course of the week. How many lives have been lost? How many are still surviving? But atop all those questions, Chanyeol sighs at the biggest of them all: Will they win this war?

When he lays on the bed, feeling deflated as hopelessness tries to enter his system, his gaze rests on the clock. He immediately sits up again, knowing that he still have an hour to do whatever he wants before the meeting. He scans the documents in the suitcase once more.

There are so many papers separated by five different folders. Each folder has a title and Chanyeol browses them all. _The Unmarked Elites (Under Investigation)_ , _The Unmarked Elites (Terminated)_ , _Elite Society_ , _Microchip Implant Progress Report (Asia)_ , and _Riddance Blueprint_. Upon understanding the topic of his first ever meeting with the rebels, he pulls the first folder and reads.

There is a list of countries then under it are names. _Family names_ . There are scribbles, annotations and numbers – Chanyeol believes they are dates, on the side. As he skims through it, specifically in South Korea and China, his eyes hit the following: _Wu, Lu, Zhang,_ and _Huang_. Attached are their family photos and Chanyeol easily spots the young Lu han and Zhang Yixing.

He turns to the next page and horror almost knocks him unconscious. His eyes widen as his palms gather sweat when he reads the next words: _Subject to Riddance Experiment_.

Chanyeol does not know so much about the _Riddance_ but Baekhyun explaining like it is like a second holocaust is enough for Chanyeol to know that it is beyond torture. He shudders at the thought. Without wasting another second, he tries to suffice himself with knowledge, grabbing the _Riddance Blueprint_ folder.

Chanyeol’s already pale face loses more color when he reads the words silently. As if reading them out loud would make things more concrete. More real. More horrifying than it already is.

 

**_SILVER MANIFESTO_ **

_The war has ended_

_Silver is the new red._

_One world, one government._

_Death for those who dissent._

 

**_INTRODUCTION_ **

_The Riddance has long been planned by the pioneers of the New World to make a more humane society. The resistance has affected the balance of powers in great measures and the proponents deem that the New World take a carefully measured plan of actions to address the rebellion that can result to multiple deaths of people._

_Riddance has_ **_always_ ** _been the answer to the increasing number of deaths per week caused by the resistance. To simplify, Riddance is the process of injecting a Nucleic Scientific Device (NSD) in the hypothalamus – a part of the brain which controls behaviors such as hunger, thirst, sleep, and sexual response and regulates emotions, and secretion of hormones. Once inserted, the NSD will shut down the hypothalamus and be in full control of its functions. In this way, rebels can be tamed without using force. Accordingly, more lives can be saved and it will be as a catalyst for the New World to serve its purpose._

Chanyeol gulps horrifyingly at the sketch of the nucleic scientific device as he skims through the next pages. He swears it is a lot smaller than the microchip the Silvers have in the back of their hands. His heart stops for a few painful moments as he understands Baekhyun’s words. Humanity, indeed, has progressed in a lot of aspect. One of that aspect is _war_.

 _Riddance_ is like holocaust, but instead of getting rid of the rebels’ lives, they take their _will_ from them. Chanyeol shivers violently at the question of which one is worse? The hairs on his body stand frighteningly, goose bumps all over him as another thought settles on his mind: _The New World attempts to make robots._

“So you have the documents?” A voice speaks and Chanyeol instinctively stands up to face the man, heart leaping in shock.

Chanyeol presses on his chest, exhaling loudly. “Yixing? Can’t you knock?”

“I knocked earlier. I almost thought you are not in your room but I figured you can’t be anywhere since I saw Baekhyun in the conference room already, so I entered.” Yixing looks at him with a warm smile yet it fails in hiding the troubles in his eyes. His hands are on his back, arms tight and stiff.

“How are you, Xing?” Chanyeol asks, settling the papers down and sitting on the bed once more. He beckons Yixing to sit down beside him. He feels that his best friend has a lot to say.

“In three days, I will lose my family if we fail to plan. If we fail the plan.” Yixing sighs, sitting deflated on the bed, posture going rigid.

“We won’t. That’s why we’ll have meeting now, right? We won’t lose your family too, I promise.” Chanyeol pats his back with a comforting pressure.

Yixing slouches even more, back bending as his hands massage his eyes brimming with tears. He sniffs. “I’m sorry about your family, Chanyeol. They don’t deserve that.”

Chanyeol wants to ask if Yixing did not take the serum, because if he does, he will not be crying like this. He wants to ask him that because it is a lot better than to talk about his family. But instead, he responds with a general answer, but still genuine nonetheless. “No one deserves that.”

“Why are you here?” Yixing suddenly asks.

Chanyeol is slightly taken a back so he retrieves his arm and laces his fingers on his lap. “Uhm, they… they brought me here?”

“Do you want to be here?”

Chanyeol is about to say _yes_ but a tug inside his heart tells him that this is a good opportunity to think. With so many things going on, does he really want to be here? With the rebels and living as an outlaw? He breathes in deeply as he contemplate. Silence brewing in more minutes than necessary.

“You are not confined here, Chanyeol. Although it is my pleasure to see you here, we can’t hold you back if you don’t want to.” Yixing says, dread and gloom lingering behind his words.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Chanyeol admits, sighing loudly as he slouches too. The weight of the world bringing him down. “Besides, we have the same cause, right? We want to bring the New World down.”

Yixing shoots another question, eyeing him meaningfully. “How do we do that?”

Chanyeol feels like it is a question that needs a _right_ answer so he voices out the first thing that came to his mind. “Kill them. The people who pioneered this damned New Government. We can end this.”

“Wrong.” Yixing’s voice is soft yet it is biting as the cold outside. “We do not battle against people, Chanyeol. We battle against ideologies and beliefs and mind sets. We can kill Rose child now, but do you really think the New World will crumble because he died?”

Under normal circumstances, Chanyeol would have smiled at Yixing’s sentiments and ideas. They are always sufficiently peppered with an old man’s wisdom. A child like Chanyeol would always find himself gaping at the wonders of Yixing like he has experienced everything in this world. But now, there is no time to be in awe. Yixing’s words feel like a matter between life and death. Failing to understand would mean death.

Chanyeol is not able to speak so it is Yixing who kills the silence again. “There is no one I trust more than the _Resistance Order_.”

“Resistance Order?” Chanyeol is glad at the sudden change of topic so he responds this time, brows furrowing in curiosity though he might have an idea what it means.

“Us.” Yixing plasters a strained smile as he exhales loudly, seemingly releasing all his worries.

Chanyeol smiles at him, laying on his back.  “Can you tell me more about it?”

“It is during World War III when the twelve districts in South Korea was formed. Each represented by a general. This is to ensure a fast and reliable communication of information and a strong resistance. We are the third generation by the way.” Yixing beams, eyes lost in the whiteness of the world beyond the windows.

It starts to snow again and it is too late for Chanyeol to realize that his lips is tugged upward. He cannot even bring himself to grimace at the feeling of ease at the moment. Yixing brings their memories back as trainees in the military academy, when the world war seemed to die down and everyone has hopes of new lives.

Yixing continues with a clear of his throat. “We had problems with the second generation Resistance Order. Unlike the first generation and us, all of them are anonymous. No one knows who in the fear of being caught. I’m afraid, New World order during those times is in the peak of their aggressiveness and cruelty. They were desperate to be known. That, Chanyeol, resulted to your family’s death. Same with General Byun’s and General Kim Joonmyeon’s. They don’t know that the other is part of Resistance Order.”

“I did not think the devil was powerful enough to turn me against myself. Even until now, I am fighting a war I don’t want to lose. Yet I don’t think I’ll be happy if I win.” Chanyeol recites as he remember the lines, producing the parchment on the top of the suitcase and giving it to Yixing. Suddenly, his heart swells in understanding. “My dad considered himself a poet.” Chanyeol winces at the _tense_ he used. “I found this a while ago together with the documents.”

Yixing smiles at the paper as he reads with glassy eyes. “General Park had been one of favorite when it comes to words. He always give us riddles to solve. Remember that one time when I scored two points more than you. General Park gave me an ice cream treat.” He chuckles painfully.

Chanyeol’s chest constricts as the memories gush through him like waves. Finally, his tears came in small amounts, leaking on his lids but enough to drown whatever the serum did in his system. He huffs, “I miss them, Xing. I miss my dad. For years, I cannot bring myself to hate him even though I thought he is on the other side.”

“I’m sorry.” Yixing smiles sadly again, his eyes low on the ground. “I doubted the general. He was like a father to me. I should have known.”

Chanyeol huffs once more, sniffing his tears away as he brings his palm to wipe them off his face. “He told me… that… this is a war we cannot win.”

Yixing remains silent. Chanyeol wants to take his silence as a contemplation about what he just heard from him and not a silent agreement. Yixing’s chest heaves steady breaths yet the look on his face is nothing but distraught about the possibilities of tomorrow. Chanyeol shudders coldly and how he wishes it is because of the snowfall outside.

“But I told him,” Chanyeol continues, voice low and soft, sounding almost hopeful. “We can save some people to tell our stories so others can continue to fight.”

At that, Yixing smiles warmly. “You have inherited you dad’s positive perspectives in life. I’m glad.” He pats Chanyeol in the back.

Dusting off his pants quickly, Yixing stands up and turns to Chanyeol. “We should head to the conference now, so you’ll have time to meet the other generals.”

“Other generals? One question,” Chanyeol holds a finger up, eyeing him with curiosity. “Are we complete? The 12 generals, I mean. If it haven’t been for the bombing and the others bringing me here, would I even be part of the Resistance Order?”

Chanyeol feels that Yixing has sensed his uncertainties about joining the order, so he breaks into a wide smile to assure him. “You really are a part of the Resistance Order. You are a part of the Assembly of Twelve. We’ve been meaning to ask you to join us since you graduated from the academy but I figured it will not be good for you to choose between us and your father. I insisted to not to bother you until we can find a way to break this all to you.”

Chanyeol recalls Yixing’s words last night: _We thought the general was on the other side. We can’t have you choose between us and your family._ His mouth shaping a perfect ‘O’ as he gapes at him with understanding.

There are so many thoughts running in Chanyeol’s head and he almost whacks himself for voicing this particular thought out. “So, am I right to assume that General Byun Baekhyun already knows me even before we… you know, the…” Chanyeol stutters, gulping some lump down.

Yixing chuckles light heartedly. “Yes. We put you under surveillance for a month and he is in charge of that monitoring. So basically, he knows more about you than you about him.”

Chanyeol’s jaw literally drops and he remains like that for a good few seconds before gathering his strength to speak. Fluttering his eyes in disbelief, he says, “Wait. When was this? He can’t probably know…”

“Calm down, Chanyeol. I believe that you two are doing well together. You’ll know things about him too.”

Chanyeol scowls at the thought of how much Baekhyun knows about him. Suddenly, he feels so naked. “Anyway,” he clears his throat so he could clear his mind. “Going back to the… uhm… what was my question earlier?”

“12 generals?” Yixing supplies him, holding another wave of laughter.

“Yes. Uhm, are we complete already? Am I the only one missing?” Chanyeol says, focusing on the _more important_ matters.

“Yes and no.”

Chanyeol knows Yixing is like his father’s adopted son but it still surprises him that Yixing adapts his way of ambiguity. ““What do you mean?”

“We’ve been waiting for you for four years, Chanyeol.” Yixing walks to his bedside table to put the parchment down, putting a remote control atop it so it will not fly. “By the time the third generation took control, all of us were notified and were invited for the first convocation. You were the only one not there.”

Chanyeol nods, understanding the situation during these period. He does not speak, encouraging Yixing to continue.

“So, yes. Technically, District VIII has no representative during the Third Generation Assembly.”

“What’s with the _no_?” Chanyeol presses.

“No, because we are incomplete now. We have Chinese elites held hostage by the New World. Wu Yifan and Huang Zi Tao of Districts III and X. We’ll talk about them on the meeting.” Yixing beckons him to stand up and leave.

Adrenaline is surging through Chanyeol’s veins the moment he stands up. Deeming they could be good use in the meeting, he picks up the first and the last folders from the case. He also pockets the poem his father wrote after folding it carefully. Standing by Yixing’s side, Chanyeol breathes in as they step out and face the day.

 

*

 

Chanyeol doubts that he will ever memorize the corridors of the headquarters. After some series of turns, he gives up remembering them and relies at Yixing for directions. The conference room is really very far from their dormitories and he allows his thoughts to bring him to faraway places.

Expecting it but still surprised, Chanyeol finds himself grinning widely as he remembers Sehun pulling a prank at Baekhyun the first night he awoke. Now understanding where Baekhyun is coming from, it cannot be denied that what Sehun did is remarkably irritating.

“What’s making you smile?” Yixing elbows him, face a little guilty for breaking him out of his trance.

“Huh?”

“And you’re red. Tell me, Chanyeol. Are the rumours getting real now?”

Chanyeol plasters the most confused look with puckered lips and creased forehead. “What are –”

“Do we still need names?” Yixing’s smile turns into something playful and teasing. “Fine. I’m talking about Byun Baekhyun and Park Chanyeol. Are they real? I thought it was just for a distraction so we can abduct the Silvers. What happened now?”

Chanyeol feigns gulping down, trying to suppress a big smile. He clears his throat. “I enjoy his company to be honest.”

“And? You haven’t answered my question.”

“And maybe I’m curious. I mean, no one has ever done that to me before and he seems to like me so…” Chanyeol leaves the words hanging.

Yixing’s face is a little close to frown then his eyes flash a quick look of apprehension and Chanyeol fails to understand why. However, the other might just remember something because he puts up a smile once again, patting Chanyeol in the back reassuringly. “Take things slow, Chanyeol. You might be the one to end General Byun’s winter season.”

Chanyeol laughs lightly. _Maybe._

There is another turn before the conference room finally appears at the end of the hall. The letters that form the words **Assembly of Twelve** are embossed on the top of the massive twin doors in golden steel with thick black outlines. Chanyeol can see it clearly, glittering even from a distance. The glass doors are tinted black so Chanyeol cannot see anything from the inside, just his reflection.

He gasps at his own sight. Pale face, chapped lips, and some fading bruises on his left temple. His slack posture is a display of lost strength over the days after the tragedy. Chanyeol sighs inwardly, promising his body for a better condition.

Chanyeol knows what a convocation should be. He has attended so many before as a young general and he swears everything should _always_ be _formal_. Silent, eerie, and strict – where one should not speak when not asked to. However, he frowns at the voices blending: some singing, some laughing, when they near the doors. It is like a choir in a practice but some members choose to make fun. Chanyeol is about to make a resolve that maybe it is a part of the program and the rebels have invited some to perform but there is no mistaking of Baekhyun’s voice.

He hears Yixing chuckles beside him, probably seeing his confusion through his reflection. “They are always like this before we start our meeting. They say it’s too serious to be more serious.”

“So it’s them? The generals? I can’t believe they can sing.” Chanyeol berates himself after rolling those words off his tongue. He cannot possible forget his first encounter with the noisiest thing on earth. Baekhyun and his other friends were the performers that night.

“I thought you knew that already. Don’t you always invite them in your party?”

“Do I _always_ invite them in my party?” Chanyeol mopes, remembering. But no matter how he ransacks his brain, he is sure that Baekhyun and Jongdae and the other guy who looks like a cute muffin are the only ones he invited _once_.

Yixing does not respond. Instead, he walks over to the door and holds it open for Chanyeol. The latter’s heart is nothing but a fluttering bird trying to climb on his throat.

The room is big, though it looks like just half of the cafeteria. There is an enormous round table at the center, with twelve cushion and elegant looking mahogany chairs around it. There are thin black microphones attached to the table top, height just enough for anyone to lean onto to speak.

The room is well-lit, the lamps giving off a bright, comfortable light while the floors are covered with a soft dark red carpet. It is easy enough for Chanyeol to see and spot everything. The ambiance is nothing but serious and certified. Photo frames of the previous members of the Assembly of Twelve, with labels of their districts and generation, hang proudly on the right wall. Above them, almost close to the line where the wall and the ceiling meet is their famous line: _Red is the Color of Humanity._

Chanyeol smiles upon seeing his father’s face though his heart tugs a little painfully. He remembers his soft and stern expression and though his face is almost blank as his lips are pressed in a thin line, Chanyeol sees his eyes burning with passion to serve his people. Chanyeol willingly tears his eyes away from the photo before a tear makes its way out.

On the left side of the room is a podium where seven men are chorusing in a song Chanyeol quite knows. If he remembers, it is one of the hit songs during the 21st Century, almost 42 years ago. No one notices their arrival yet so he takes his time to listen and observe them. Some are _oddly_ _familiar_.

_It goes down, down baby_

_Rideume onmomeul_

_It goes down down baby_

_Matkigo sorichyeo oh_

It does not take a long time for another smile to flit across Chanyeol’s face. These men enjoy themselves like there is no war going on. For a moment, Chanyeol wonders why he could be the one to end to General Byun’s winter season when he is so fiery in everything he does. He remembers Baekhyun’s playful expression as they dealt with their Silver captives, his cold eyes staring into him when he shot him in the leg, and now, his _not-so-general like_ laughter as he sings the song.

Chanyeol asks himself mentally, _where is winter here?_ He sees nothing of the rebel but _passion_ and _fire_ and _life_.

“We going Kokobop! Hey!” They shout, rather than sing. They put their hands, balled into fists, on their chest, mimicking that of a chicken wing. But instead of flapping, they shake their hips incredulously as they shake their bodies, almost hilarious to watch.

They break into a loud laughter again. It is too late when Chanyeol realizes that he is joining them in laughter too and he does not halt himself from doing so because it feels good.

Yixing beckons him to go to his seat. Chanyeol does not have the trouble in deciding where because there are name plates on the back of the chairs. He spots District VIII easily then quickly places the folders on the space below the table top. The soft screech of his chair seems like a bomb of silence has been dropped. Everything falls silent and Chanyeol, with painful heartbeats, wonders if he has done something wrong.

“Good morning, General Park.”

Chanyeol does not need to turn around to know who speaks. He knows the voice too well _already_. But to acknowledge, he faces him with a happy smile. “Good morning, General Byun.”

There are a lot of things Chanyeol is struggling in at the moment. One, he struggles not to smirk; two, he struggles not to laugh; and three, he struggles not to burn his face in embarrassment upon hearing the others cooing at them. They seem to have no modesty, smiling and smirking and gawking at the two of them without bothering themselves to hide.

The only consolation he gets is when he sees General Byun also burning his cheeks red. It is weird, in Chanyeol’s opinion. They just exchanged greetings.

Gladly, it is Baekhyun who breaks them away from whatever fantasies they are having in their minds, throwing Sehun another wave of lethal gazes. “Very well, General Oh. Thank you for sharing a very wonderful information.”

“Wonderful, indeed.” Sehun retort, his signature grin flitting across his face. “It must be the reason you’re so alive today, General Byun.”

Baekhyun just smiles at him dangerously, tapping something on his belt. “I’ll deal with you later.”

“Good morning, General Park. Welcome to the Resistance Order.” The darkest man smirks at him as he makes his way to shake his hand. “I am General Kim Jongin of District XI. In charge of close combat. It is a pleasure to finally have you here.”

They shake hands in the most childish way. Jongin sandwiches Chanyeol’s hand and literally shakes it up and down. Chanyeol’s wound in his shoulder almost throb. He decides that he is just as playful and mischievous as Oh Sehun.

“You look familiar,” Chanyeol comments, racking his memories to pinpoint where they have met.

Jongin chirps happily. “I am a performer in some of your parties, General. I dance sometimes. We met at your father’s birthday celebration. Remember?”

Chanyeol nods eagerly, his eyes and mouth shaping ‘O’. “I think I remember now.” He gives him a sheepish grin.

Jongin retreats to his seat and another man comes to him. Chanyeol swears he always has that innocent look of a business tycoon. He offers his hand first for a shake, recognizing him. “Good morning, General Kim Joonmyeon.”

“Park Chanyeol,” Joonmyeon answers in acknowledgement. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you here at last.”

Chanyeol remembers Joonmyeon. They have attended so many Bilateral Meetings together over the past four years. Though having little to no interaction, they have always shared the same cause for the betterment of South Korea after the World War III and that is enough to start establishing a friendly relationship.

Chanyeol huffs both in amazement and disbelief. “I have always thought of you as a _noble_ man.”

Understanding what he means, Joonmyeon laughs lightly, flashing his white teeth. “I think I just found a more noble cause. I hope you do, too. Please, have a sit and make yourself comfortable.”

Chanyeol sits comfortably beside Jongdae who also shakes his hand.

“Good to see you here, General Park. I hope you did not forget me. My name is Kim Jongdae of District VII.” Jongdae beams at him, cheekbones very pronounced.

Chanyeol rolls his eyes impishly, suppressing his grin. “Yeah. How can I forget you? You punched me in my wounded shoulder when I tried to help you.”

“YOU DID?” Baekhyun, who is between Yixing and Jongdae, huffs loudly, eyes widening in disgust. “How could you –”

It is Jongdae’s turn to roll his eyes. “No, you can’t play the good boy, Baek. Remember? You shot him in the leg.”

That has closed Baekhyun’s mouth up and Chanyeol silently laughs in his heart content. Seeing a flustered Baekhyun is one of his favourite things now. Baekhyun is rendered speechless so he folded his arms on the table and rests his head, feigning sleep.

Chanyeol remains quiet, trying to observe them more. He counts the vacant seats and three people are missing. He clearly remembers Yixing saying there are two Chinese Elites held hostage. Who is the other one?

“Chanyeol,” Lu Han walks to him with a soft and proud smile. “I’m really really happy you made it here. I almost thought we will never be complete.”

“If you have told me earlier, I would have gotten here sooner.” Chanyeol stands up to shake his hand then embracing him with a gentle press on his shoulder.

“Would you want that?”

“I hate the New World as much as you do. I don’t see the point of keeping this from me when I should really be a part of this at the first place.” Chanyeol beams at him, eyeing him meaningfully to tone down any tinge of reproach in his words.

“I apologize. But there are things that take time. We can’t blow this all to you unprepared.” Lu Han reasons, also patting him gently in his good shoulder. “I should be in my seat. We have more time to get acquainted after your initiation.”

“Alright then… What? Initiation?” Chanyeol’s eyes widen is shock and something akin to fear. “I thought there is no initiation?”

“This will be fun for you and for us. Trust me.” Lu Han winks at him, chuckling to himself as he finds his place.

Chanyeol takes his seat once more, throwing a look at Jongdae, debating whether he should ask or not.

“If you are meaning to ask me about your initiation, I’m sorry. None of us can tell you about it.” Jongdae says, giving Chanyeol a teasing look after seeing his questioning look, clearly enjoying himself in keeping Chanyeol at bay. “But you’ll find out soon enough.”

Chanyeol sighs loudly, slouching on his seat. “Just when I thought this isn’t a fraternity.”

“This is not a fraternity.” Jongdae laughs, drumming his hands on the table in glee, earning a loud grunt from Baekhyun. “Consider this as an audition. No more questions, General Park.”

Chanyeol exhales with his mouth closed, making his lips grumble against each other and producing a _brrr_ sound. It is too late when he notices Baekhyun smiling at him. _There he goes again with the soft and genuine smile_. Chanyeol unwillingly admits that it makes his insides wobble.

He diverts his gaze again and focus on the more _important matters_. Chanyeol fails to count how many times he reminded himself that.

“Good morning, Generals,” General Kim Joonmyeon speaks in the podium. Chanyeol has to crane his neck to look at him because his back is facing the stage. “In a few minutes, we will be starting the meeting proper. First, let’s have a checking of attendance. Please state your name and your district, staring with General Kim Minseok.”

Chanyeol mouths a silent _ahh_ upon remembering his name. He sees Minseok pressing a button on his microphone and the base blinks a red line. “General Kim Min Seok, District I.”

The others does the same and the names are stated.

“General Lu Han, District II.”

“General Kim Joon Myeon,” he speaks from the podium. “District IV.”

“General Zhang Yi Xing, District V.”

“General Byun Baek Hyun, District VI.”

“General Kim Jong Dae, District VII.”

Chanyeol gulps down, pressing his microphone to speak. He debates in a matter of a mini second on whether he is already entitled to a _title_ but remembering that he is still about to go through an initiation, he settles on his name. “Park Chan Yeol,” he mimics their tone. “District VIII.”

“General Kim Jong In, District XI.” He follows quickly.

“General Oh Sehun, District XII.”

“Very well,” Joonmyeon speaks again. “A total of nine members are present in the third convocation. Reminding General Byun to take the minutes of the meeting.”

Baekhyun answers with a raise of his pen before he attends to jotting down on his pad. Chanyeol stares at him, killing the gasp that wants to be out of his lips because Baekhyun looks so mundane. _So not him_. With the cover of the pen between his teeth as he scribbles.

“For our agenda,” Joonmyeon unconsciously brings Chanyeol back to earth. “One, the updates about the preparation for the retrieval of necessary documents. Two, planning stage for the rescue operation for the Chinese Elite Families. Three, issues about the Assembly of Twelve. If there are other matters, we can allot some more minutes to talk about it after all the main agenda.”

“Three is what?” Chanyeol hears Baekhyun asking Yixing, scribbling a lot faster.

“Assembly of Twelve,” The other responds. “Issues on the Assembly of Twelve.”

Joonmyeon walks to his seat and pressing his microphone on. “Alright. We can start with the documents. Has anyone checked the headquarters of Silvers in the north?”

Yixing raises his hand and Joonmyeon acknowledges him quickly.

“Go on, General Zhang.”

“There are no documents found in the headquarters. It seems that an unknown graceful hand is helping us to keep it safe. And I deemed that that graceful hand is with us right now. It is fortunate that we have _General_ Park here as he is so kind to share to us the papers he brought.”

In a matter of seconds, Chanyeol feels eight pairs of eyes on him. Suddenly, he feels difficulty in swallowing.

“General Park?” Joonmyeon eyes Chanyeol carefully, seemingly waiting for him to directly respond.

Chanyeol is taken a back and it takes him a few seconds for his mind to catch up to do something. Without pressing yet his own mic, he turns to Yixing, mouthing his question, _should I?_

A simple nod from Yixing sets Chanyeol’s heart jumping. He wants to freak out because he does not understand why he is so nervous. He has attended so many meetings with people of authority yet the confidence in him did not stop brewing. Today is different.

Chanyeol settles on the resolve that maybe it is because he does not bear a higher title anymore. In the Resistance Order, all of them are in equal ranks and no one cares whether he is the son of the renowned General Park. In the Assembly of Twelve, he is the youngest who knows nothing of the world on the other side of the war.

Chanyeol finally presses his microphone, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the weight of the rebels’ gazes on him. “My father gave me the documents. He said I need to keep it safe before the Silvers take hold of it.” He produces the folders and lays it neatly on the table top. “There are five folders but I only brought two with me. One, is the Under Investigation Unmarked Elites and the other is Riddance Blueprint. I saw Wu, Lu, Zhang, and Huang in this file and the dates of their _Riddance_.”

“Will it be okay if we take a look?” Baekhyun speaks, scratching some notes on his pad before looking at him. His eyes speaks of comfort and ease.

“Sure.” Chanyeol passes the documents to him. “I haven’t read all of them. My father gave it to me that day they were bombed so I –”

He hears Baekhyun dropped his pen, hitting his head on edge of the table and yelping loudly as he retrieves it. Chanyeol smiles a little while Jongdae does not hide his _struggle_ of hiding his laugh. It takes them Joonmyeon’s hushing for them to behave and _focus_.

“Please focus,” if Joonmyeon is irritated, he does not show it. He looks at Chanyeol intently, seemingly afraid of missing an information. “Continue General Park.”

It is Baekhyun who responds, skimming the papers. “We have six days to prepare before they undergo _Riddance_.”

“According to the Blueprint, that’s in the next folder General Byun,” Chanyeol continues, supplying more information. “The _Riddance_ will take effect on the first quarter of next year. After all the rebels are captured.”

“No, wait!” Baekhyun looks startled. “I thought the days come first. I’m sorry, but the _Riddance Experiment_ was two weeks ago.”

“What?” Sehun frowns. “But they’re still alive? The elite captives are still alive,” he says. His face displays fear and hope as he tries to remember some things that would fit in the picture.

Chanyeol asks the same question. If the _Riddance Experiment_ was two weeks ago and the elites are still alive, what happened to the New World to delay this project? Especially if this means the whole world to the Silvers?

“Okay. One at a time,” Joonmyeon intervenes. “Focusing first with our first agendum, are the documents needed here already? How many more do you have General Park?”

“I have five files, General. The other three are…” Chanyeol tries to remember the exact names of the files. “The terminated unmarked elites, elite society, and the Microchip Progress Report in Asia.”

There is a moment of silence in the room as the others write in their own notebooks. The others are busy skimming other files as if to confirm. Chanyeol mentally rewinds all the things he said in the fear of having said something devastating. He presses the button in his mic to turn in off as he rests his back fully on the soft backrest and exhales loudly.

“Don’t worry, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun’s hand, crossing from his place to Jongdae’s, touches his arm reassuringly, flashing him an encouraging smile. “You’re doing great.”

Chanyeol places his own hand atop Baekhyun’s and holds it in place. “Thank you, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun has to retrieve his hand back sooner because he has to write something down and Chanyeol is left with a weird, hollow feeling at the ghost of his touch. He blatantly ignores Jongdae’s smirks at the two of them and reminds himself for the nth time to _focus_.

“The Blueprint Riddance is one of the essential things we need,” Joonmyeon speaks again. “The microchip implant in Asia can also be helpful. If you please, General Park, forward the documents to General Byun so the strategy committee can start planning the offenses and defenses.”

“There is another!” Chanyeol exclaims a little too quickly, his voice still loud though he forgets to press his microphone button. “I’m sorry. Uhm, there is another file,” he says, calmly this time, with his microphone on. “My father said it is in his headquarters. In one of the vaults. I don’t know what it is but he said it’s very very important.” As if Chanyeol has clicked something on, memories he almost forgot come rushing to him. “There are Silvers who attacked us that day and they demand that my father should give them the _documents_. They say it’s the reason why we are being bombed.”

Joonmyeon looks apprehensive and so is Lu Han. Evident in their faces are the creases of thinking too hard, as if struggling to remember something. Their eyes wander on the ground, brows furrowing. Joonmyeon takes a moment to acknowledge General Oh Sehun who has raised his hand.

“All the documents we need are with us already especially the Blueprints. But there is still one we lack to stop the _Riddance_. General Lu, didn’t you say that the NSD needs to be activated first?”

“You’re point is?” Yixing is the one responds.

“We already have the Blueprint of the _Riddance_ and General Park says it will be in effect on the first quarter of next year. Also, considering that the Elite Families will be the first to be experimented which is supposed to be two weeks ago, means to say that the NSDs are ready and the documents we have is not of an utmost importance to the Silvers. If I am not mistaken, I think the unknown file is the Activation Code.”

“That is why Korea will be bombed,” Chanyeol gasps, more in fear than in surprise as he connects the dots. “There is no other way of purging the rebels. The New World thinks _Riddance_ is a lot more humane than missiles. But since they can’t activate the NSDs yet, they are left with no options but to drop bombs.”

Chanyeol clearly remembers the sketch of the Nucleic Scientific Device and the remote control it partners with. He shudders again at the thought of human robots that can switch on and off at the New World’s command.

“You’re right,” Lu Han responds, nodding his head enthusiastically, smirking evilly. There is a strong determination in his voice. “That should be the activation code. We have exactly seven months before another year starts. General Byun, can you have access on the information of how many NSDs are existing at the moment?”

Baekhyun jots down, nodding his head too. “Yes, General. Deadline?”

Lu Han continues to explain. “This month if possible. There are many rebels around the world and each should have an NSD, right? Can I have a copy of Riddance Blueprint so I can study about it more? I find it odd that the New World will have _Riddance_ next year if they are only just waiting for the Activation Code. They are desperate. What are they waiting for?”

Chanyeol sees the others, especially Minseok and Yixing smiling in understanding. He feels a little left out because of the insufficiency in what he knows. This is the first time he ever feels small and useless and pathetic.

“That’s right!” Jongdae screams in delight, speaking for the first time. “There is a possibility that there aren’t much NSDs produced yet. Only enough to be used for the pilot testing. I only pray they haven’t produced a copy of that blueprint.”

“Even if they have,” Lu Han intervenes, sounding hopeful. “We can also be equipped with knowledge of how it works. We can counter them or maybe even control if fate will be in our favour.”

“Very well,” Joonmyeon smiles and sighs in relief. “Considering all the information said, are there any ideas to retrieve the Activation Code? We will be needing the blueprint of the building so we will know the safe places to operate.”

“I think the Activation Code can wait, General Kim,” Jong In replies casually, leaning his arms on the table top. “We need to focus on the operation to free the Chinese Elites. It is unlikely that the Silvers will find the papers soon since it is safely hidden. Lives matter more than papers.”

Chanyeol is about to retreat to his own quiet place in his mind when an idea bobs. He debates for a few good minutes because he fears he might come out arrogant and insensitive but the thirst to do something for the Order is compelling. He raises his hand, heart on his throat once more and waits to be acknowledged.

Joonmyeon turns to him with an expectant beam. “Yes, General Park.”

This is Chanyeol’s first time to speak because he wants to _willingly_ voice out his thoughts. “I understand that lives are more important than papers and that there is no justifiable reason to delay the rescue operations on the Chinese Elites. However, not retrieving the papers immediately will be detrimental to our cause.”

Chanyeol hears Jongin, who is just two seats way from him, huffing loudly though there is no hint of incivility in his expression. “General Park, I understand that you are here just… what? One week ago? But the lives of the people are a top priority here. That is _our_ cause. We don’t work like the government you _served_.”

If Jongin did not emphasize the tense he used on his last word, it will be more offensive than it already is. Chanyeol cringes in his seat, trying to silence his mocking thoughts for speaking his idea. Everyone looks at them with anticipation to elicit a unanimous and justifiable decision to deal with the dilemma.

“Thank you for reminding me that, General Kim of District XI,” Chanyeol responds, meekness in his tone and in his words. He holds their gazes meaningfully, hoping they would listen. “I understand that you don’t operate the same way the New World does and I do not mean to sacrifice their lives in favour of the papers. I apologize, General Lu and General Zhang. The retrieval of the papers would mean delay in the _Riddance Experiment_ of the unmarked Elites. If we have the papers, they cannot do anything to them.”

The room falls silent once more. Fear is evident in Lu Han and Yixing’s faces while Minseok is pouting his lips, also having his own mental debate. Joonmyeon’s eyes are stern as he looks at them, gauging their responses, seemingly waiting for someone to speak. Baekhyun has his finger scratching his chin, his other hand tapping the table with his pen. Jongin leans back on his seat, taken a back at the validity of Chanyeol’s reason. Sehun and Jongdae are wandering their eyes on the ground, looking lost as they think.

“You have a good point,” Jongin acknowledges after some moments. “But there is an issue of torture going on. We also cannot afford that. As much as we want to split the group so half of us can attend to an issue and the other half on the other, a major operation like this should have the full force of our manpower.”

“They cannot hurt them,” Baekhyun finally speaks, giving Chanyeol an approving smile. He looks at Jongin innocently as he explains. “These families play a major role in the stock market. China cannot afford to lose people like them. It is no wonder New World is keeping them in hostage. They are valuable to them.”

“I know that, General Byun,” Jongin replies a little too quickly, very much determined to push his points. “But I do not mean the Silvers will kill them right then and there.”

Chanyeol raises his hand again, remembering what his father told him a long time ago. Once he sees Joonmyeon nodding his head in his direction, he speaks. “They cannot do physical harm either like what you want to mean. They are public figures after all. They have to appear once in a while in Rose child’s campaigns to promote the unified world, remember? Your families are essential to their image. The best thing they can do is to threaten them into the _Riddance_ _Experiment_.”

Joonmyeon nods his head in agreement. “Yeah. It is likely that the captives do not know that the Silvers don’t have the activation code yet and the New World takes this advantage to threaten them to give in to their demands.”

“General,” Minseok shoots his hand up. “I propose to deliver a secret message to the captives by any means so they will be aware of the current situation. We cannot afford to have these families be marked. The New World may not have the Codes yet but they might be successful in luring them to obey.”

“I support the proposition.” Sehun and Jongdae say in chorus.

“Though we have to be careful. This is dangerous. We can be tracked.” Jongdae reminds them, his voice soft and kind.

“Alright. Before we do that, do we all agree to retrieve the papers first? Give me a raise of hands,” Joonmyeon orders, as he presides the voting.

All of them raise their right hands except for Chanyeol who proposes the plan. Baekhyun’s hand is confidently and elegantly high, as if he is nothing but proud. Even Jongin, who is against the proposition has a small smile playing on his lips.

“With everyone agreeing to General Park, I move that his proposition be done,” Joonmyeon speaks proudly. “Alright, task assignments. Byun Baekhyun would work on strategies to retrieve the papers. Kim Minseok and Zhang Yixing will be in charge of sending the messages to the Chinese Elites and secure their welfare. Lu Han and Kim Jongdae will study the _Riddance Blueprint_. Oh Sehun, Kim Jongin, and I will be the one to train and prepare Aeries to execute the operations.”

Chanyeol is grateful that his idea is taken into consideration. At the very least, he is able to do something for the Order though he wants to do _more_ . But clearly, he is not part of this operation. General Kim Jongin is right when he implied he is just a sapling in this rebellion. He cannot do much as he lacks understanding of their _cause_ according to Jongin and _the way of the world_ according to Baekhyun. He sighs inwardly and accepting that he still has to prove something to earn a place in the Resistance Order. He is almost pouting in disappointment when General Kim Joonmyeon speaks again.

“As for General Park –”

“I’ll take him!” Baekhyun almost shouts then biting his lip in embarrassment after realizing his voice is higher than his usual octave when singing. “It would do us good if we put him in the intelligence department he knows the way of the New World more than anyone in this order and it is just valid to –”

Joonmyeon chuckles and the others do too. “I understand. No need to give us excuses.”

“Excuses,” The others mirror and they burst into a loud laughter. Once more, Chanyeol and Baekhyun are rendered helpless with their cheeks burning red.

“ _Reasons_ , I mean,” Joonmyeon follows his statement, feigning innocence.

However, Chanyeol is not the one to burn in humiliation alone because he knows sooner or later, Baekhyun will think of a punch line that will save him from embarrassment so Chanyeol makes the first move. Intentionally pressing his microphone, he speaks, glint in his eyes and grin in his lips. “You don’t have to be so obvious, General Byun.”

Baekhyun gasps at him in shock and it is dead obvious in his face how his mind shuts down as he registers Chanyeol’s words in his system. The others make a louder noise of coos and _yhieeees_ as they thump the table loudly, unable to contain their feels and their cringe.

“Alright kids,” Joonmyeon tries to halt himself in chuckling. “Before we take our lunch, let’s summarize what we have talked about. I’m glad we hit our two agenda for this morning. Shall we have General Byun?”

Instead of keeping still to listen, they squirm more and the exchange of banters becomes wilder.

“Can general Byun speak? _Eotteokhae_ Byun Baek?”

“Shall we have General Byun marry General Park?”

“Shall we have General Byun kiss General Park?”

“Shall we have General Byun stop burning his cheeks red?”

Chanyeol almost feels sorry for Baekhyun’s red cheeks but he admits that he is enjoying the sight of Baekhyun trying to compose himself so he will not put his gun out from his holster and shoot them one by one. He also knows that he will have to deal with the wrath later but he buries that at the back of his mind. For now, he enjoys seeing his effect on Baekhyun.

“To top it off,” Baekhyun clears his throat, obviously suppressing his grin. “From what we have talked about, I conclude that it is necessary to kill General Park first. I’ll do the honor.”

Chanyeol gulps down but it is clear that the odds is not in Baekhyun’s favour at the moment.

“Kill him with your love!” Chanyeol is not sure but he can guess that it was Kim Jongin who shouts the words.

The laughter and banters chorus once more in the conference room.

“Byun is down down baby!”

“He’s going Kokobop!”

 

***

 

**THE INITIATION**

Chanyeol almost feels they are members of Justice League or Avengers, famous movies of the 21st Century. When they enter the cafeteria, all eyes are on them. There is a glint in their eyes as they look at them with nothing but pride and admiration. He is about to comment about how they stare at them as they walk to their table but the other generals do not seem to care about it so he shuts his mouth.

Maybe Chanyeol was still groggy the first time he stepped into this hall. It is only now he appreciates the aesthetics of their cafeteria. He wanders his gaze as they wait for their lunch to be served.

There is large dais at the front where musical instruments rest. The rebels have a complete set like they are hosting weekly concerts. The stage is blooded with its dark red carpet and bright red thick, heavy curtains. The stage lights are alternate colors of white and yellow, enhancing a fierce ambiance that match the determination of the rebels.

There are round tables everywhere with five chairs each. Some are big like the ones they are using right now. Big enough to accommodate twelve people. There is an enormous black countertop that looks like a bar at the back. That is where he ate for the first time. Stools are arranged neatly on the opposite side of the counter. The kitchen, he assumes, is at the farther back.

The ceiling is high with white porcelain chandeliers giving sufficient light – not too bright but not too dim. Chanyeol is about to ask about the funders of the rebels because this looks so high class when the very first question he has earlier this day pops in his mind.

“Baekhyun?” He asks the man sitting beside him. “Can I ask something?”

Under normal circumstances, Chanyeol knows Baekhyun would have retorted something acidic considering what he did a while ago but he must have sensed some urgency in his tone.

“What is it?”

Chanyeol almost smiles because Baekhyun sounds calm, giving him his full attention, but he tells himself to _focus_ . _Again_. “Two Chinese Elites are held hostage right? But we are only nine. Who is the other one?”

“You know him too,” Baekhyun answers with a sad smile. “It’s Do Kyungsoo. He was from District IX.”

“Really?” Chanyeol’s eyes almost pop out of its socket at the revelation. _How could he not tell him?_ Chanyeol feels sad at the thought of his friends keeping secrets from him. It makes him wonder, are there more secrets they are keeping?

“Yeah. He should be your seat mate in the conference room and in here too!” Jongdae intervenes, sounding serious. “But Byun Baekhyun here is taking advantage of his absence and sitting beside you.”

Chanyeol does not know that even in lunch, they would follow their sitting arrangement. Surprisingly, he finds themselves in their respective seats. He fails to comprehend why the arrangement matters that much. But Baekhyun seems he could care less about it, as he plops down on the chair beside Chanyeol, emptying his own spot between Yixing and Jongdae.

“Don’t mind him,” Baekhyun says.

Turning to look at Baekhyun again, Chanyeol asks for more details. “How long has been a part of the Resistance Order? Where is he now?”

“He had been with us since he graduated the military academy.”

“Four years ago?”

“Yes. But we haven’t heard from him for six months. Didn’t you know? Intel says he’s dead from the first bombing in Seoul. Though his body is not found,” Baekhyun explains as light as he could. Though the look in his eyes tells about his hurt from losing a friend too.

“What? It can’t be! He’s not dead. He was the one who helped us get here. Remember, Jongdae? He was driving my car!” Chanyeol yelps in disbelief.

“What are you saying?” Joonmyeon asks, raising his eyebrow. Everyone in the table is listening now. “He’s dead. It can’t be him.”

Jongdae is silent for a moment before he jumps in surprise, remembering the incident. “Yes! Yes, I remember now! How could I forget? I saw him. But he’s wearing all black and he seems… _different_. But he’s alive. He helped us carry Baekhyun and the others to Chanyeol’s car,” Jongdae nods eagerly, frowning at himself. “He saved us.”

“Why didn’t he come back? Where is he? Is he a Silver now?” Jongin asks with a broken tone, his face is nothing but white, his eyes dancing between hopefulness and hopelessness.

“Are you really sure about this? I haven’t brought this up to you, though,” Minseok joins the conversation, leaning onto the table. His expression is grim. “But nobody was in the driver seat when the car honked in front of the headquarters.”

Chanyeol can feels his hairs standing proudly and it gives him nothing but shivers down his spine. “What has he been up to? He hasn’t sided with the Silvers, that’s what I know for sure.”

“We have declared him dead,” Baekhyun says, voice soft and weak. “He is about to deliver the list of the remaining second generation Assembly of Twelve so we would know who they are but he hadn’t come back. I’m sorry, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol is taken aback, gawking at Baekhyun for a longer time than necessary as he registers the words. It takes him another amount of time to reply a lifeless, “It’s fine.”

Chanyeol is grateful Baekhyun does not reply to him anymore because he will just be pressured to respond.

Once their lunch is served, Chanyeol retreats in a quiet place on his mind and focuses on finishing his food quickly to get his thoughts straight. It is just thirty minutes passed twelve yet too much information on so many things exhaust his body and his mind. After emptying his plate, he excused himself politely before finding his room on his own.

Chanyeol plops down to his bed the moment he shuts his door close, exhausted from remembering his way back and all the things he has known this morning. He lays down, back flat on the mattress. He closes his eyes, feeling dizzy as his head spins with the thoughts of _what ifs_.

_What if Kyungsoo delivered the list to the rebels?_

_What if the rebels saved his family?_

_What if his family is alive?_

Tears start to fall, wetting his cheeks, and Chanyeol makes no move to stop and wipe them away. Soon, his heavy sobs weigh down his heart and he suddenly cannot breathe properly. Heaving deep breaths as he sits down again to gasp for air. He massages his chest in a futile attempt to calm his heart and his lungs and to bury the scene of falling bodies into the deep pits of his mind.

He feels betrayed for some kind of reason. Now that he replays the day they were bombed, he cannot help but wonder how can Kyungsoo say he needs to leave right then and there and save the world?

_You have to leave if you want to save the world._

_A little sacrifice for the greater good._

_Maybe this is his way of redeeming himself after he allowed the tragedy to happen to his family_. Chanyeol tries to find the most rational and reasonable explanation why Kyungsoo had to desert the Resistance Order. But he just cannot bring himself to accept whatever reasons he has. Kyungsoo is like a family to them.

Chanyeol feels the rage burning at the bottom of his heart yet nothing is more overwhelming at the moment than the pain of betrayal. How can Kyungsoo do this?

Then another question pops. _What did the Resistance Order do for him to leave like that? Betrayal? Another conspiracy?_

Chanyeol feels it, however. That Kyungsoo is not part of the New World and he shudders at another thought. Hairs standing once more in great height.

More questions spin in his head that Chanyeol, for a moment, wants to silence his thoughts forever. _Who does he serve, then? Is there another group that go against the New World?_

He drowns at the feeling of pain, irritation, anger, frustration, and longing brought by _what ifs_ , by tragedies, by his friends not telling him anything, and by betrayal. _Is there more?_

Chanyeol clutches his chest once more as he kneels on the floor with his head down. He surprises himself by remembering to crouch down to gasp for air – as if he has all the time in the world to think about a simple fact from his training four years ago. He continues sobbing and gasping and emptying his heart out. Until the pain stops.

But it does not.

Chanyeol remains on the cold floor. Still kneeling but too tired to support himself with his hands, he plants his face on the ground, hands over his head as he heaves deep and heavy breaths. It does not do him any good when he hears footsteps coming until his door opens then a horror-stricken shout. But he just feels to tired to stand up and pretend he is fine.

“CHANYEOL! WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT –” Baekhyun runs to him, to his side. Plopping down hastily to gather him on his arms.

Chanyeol does not resist the gesture. He ends up being cradled by the rebel, his head on his chest while Baekhyun’s arm is under his back to hold him close. His other hand checks Chanyeol’s face, then his heartbeat before he returns his touch to his face again and cups his cheeks.

“What’s the matter, Yeol?”

“Baek –” Chanyeol already breaks down at the mention of his name. He buries his face more on his chest, wishing his pain would subside a little. Just enough for him to breathe. To think. But he cannot deny, there is no worse thing than knowing your family can be saved by a simple list. By a simple delivery. By a simple action.  “How can Kyungsoo do that?” He says in between his broken sobs, still unable to breathe properly.

“Sshh,” Baekhyun hushes him, tightening his hold and resting his chin atop Chanyeol’s head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry we failed you, Yeol.”

It does not take long for Chanyeol to feel Baekhyun’s tears, wetting his hair. _How did Baekhyun survive it?_ Chanyeol wants to ask. That excruciating pain of watching your family die and you are left with no choice but to live and endure.

They stay like that for a longer moment. Chanyeol has silenced his sobs but he fails from stopping his tears. Baekhyun cries with him, sniffing more often than him. But he does not wipe his tears away as his hands stay under Chanyeol’s back and on his face.

“I want the serum,” Chanyeol speaks, voice weak and hoarse.

“No.”

“No?” Chanyeol grunts. “Let’s fake our happiness until all of this is over.”

“The serum does not fake your happiness, Chanyeol. It just helps you in dealing with pain.”

“I want it. Inject it on me right now.”

“Mourn the loss of your family, Chanyeol. They deserve that.” Baekhyun massages his temple until his hands comb Chanyeol’s hair in a very soothing way. “Don’t depend on the serum like I did. It’s not… _healthy_.”

Chanyeol shifts his position so Baekhyun can hold him more comfortably. He rests his head on the rebel’s shoulder. “How did you do it, Baek? Tell me, how can I survive this?”

“I’m still surviving this,” Baekhyun whispers in pain, a soft broken sob slipping passed his lips. “But at least I’m with you. It’s so hard to be alone, Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun tries to smile. He looks down at Chanyeol, both their eyes are swelling and tears are rimming on their eyelids, taking all the liberty to fall and stream down their faces.

“I want to kiss you right now,” Baekhyun says with the softest smile. “But I don’t want you to think I like you in that shallow way. I care about you, Yeol. And I want to be here.” Instead, Baekhyun lets their foreheads touch in very endearing way. Clogged noses grazing each other lightly.

Chanyeol closes his eyes as he enjoys the warm gesture and he heaves a deep breath. He is not surprise anymore that the rebel calms him by just _this_. By just his hold, his eyes. His thumping heart slowly picks up a normal speed until he can breathe again deeply.

“Why?” Chanyeol asks as he anchors an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders: to keep the rebel in place; to keep himself in place. “Why do you care so much?”

Baekhyun’s warm breath fans Chanyeol’s face. “I just know that I don’t want you to experience all the things I did. _Alone_. I don’t have someone, Chanyeol. I just depended on the serum but even that cannot mend my pain. It worsens my nightmare.”

Chanyeol does not reply anymore. Instead, he closes the distance between them and tilts his head upwards so he can catch Baekhyun’s lips. Unlike their previous hot kisses, full of teasing and tension, this one is their most innocent and genuine and caring. Their lips touch, Chanyeol’s a little open while Baekhyun’s is a pout. No one moves, no one demands.

When it is time to breathe again, Chanyeol leans back and looks at the rebel directly in the eyes. “It hurts, Baek. It hurts so much.”

“Everyone hurts in the war,” Baekhyun returns his soft smile. His hand cupping Chanyeol’s cheek like he is the most fragile thing before his eyes.

It is in this moment when they realize they need each other’s warmth to survive the winter. _Their winter_.

 

*

 

Baekhyun is a laughing mess for two hours already as he tries to calm the rattled Chanyeol. The latter keeps giving him a wary look but the rebel does not fail to remind him that his laughter is pure, genuine, and authentic and not just a product of the serum.

“What if I fail this initiation? Where am I supposed to go?” Chanyeol asks, pacing back and forth for a good two hours already. “If they kick me out, I swear! I’m going to kidnap you so you can be with me. We’re a package now!” He eyes him with fear and disgust, hoping that Baekhyun will be threatened.

But the rebel, laying on his back comfortably on Chanyeol’s bed, chortles once more. “If you fail your initiation today, you can still try tomorrow. No one is kicking you out, Chanyeol. But okay, if ever they do, I’ll go with you.”

“I clearly asked you last time if you have an initiation and you _clearly_ told me you are not a fraternity and now I should do this?” Chanyeol pouts, sitting beside him.

“This is not what you think,” Baekhyun mutters. “I don’t know what I should say to calm you down but –”

“Tell me what I have to do. Then I will calm down.”

“I can’t,” Baekhyun sits up straight, a playful smile on his lips. “But this is what I promise you, you’ll enjoy this.”

“What if I don’t fit here, Baekhyun? What do you think? Should I leave?” Chanyeol does not mirror the same smile and his tone shifts. Doubt and fear are clouding his eyes and he does not make efforts in hiding them from Baekhyun.

Sensing his apprehension, Baekhyun’s soft smile turns softer. “Chanyeol, we need you here. You are important in the Resistance Order and you are a part of us ever since. It is you who will decide whether you fit here or not. If you want to leave, we can’t do anything about it. But leave because you want to, not because you think the Resistance Order don’t want you here. We waited for so long for you. We can’t lose you now.”

It is Chanyeol’s turn to lay on his back, plopping down childishly. He looks at Baekhyun with a cute pout. “I just wish… you can tell me what my initiation would be.”

And for the nth time, Baekhyun’s response is nothing but a loud chuckle.

“You must be so happy now, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol changes the topic to calm himself. “Seeing me _live_ here instead of seeing me in your screens.”

Baekhyun furrows his browns though Chanyeol can see he is feigning innocence. “What are you talking about?”

“I was monitored, right? You are the one who monitored me 24/7. Tell me, what have you seen?” Chanyeol teases more.

“You must be so full of yourself to think I was on you 24/7?”

“Should we ask Yixing, then? See if he’s lying?”

“He told you that?” Baekhyun almost pops his eyes out.

It is Chanyeol’s time to chuckle loudly. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to kill him! I swear!”

“Oops! Guilty now, are you?”

Baekhyun lays beside him in annoyance yet he curls his arm on Chanyeol’s waist and pulls him close. “I know you play guitar. I love your voice. They calm me every night when I wake up from my nightmare.”

“What’s the song you heard?”

“I don’t know the title but it’s about a father and a son. Is that your song for General Park?”

Chanyeol does not respond. Not with words at least. He places his arm under Baekhyun’s head to have him pillow it and draws him close. Smelling once more the scent that intoxicates him. Closing his eyes, Chanyeol starts to sing as he travels his fingers along Baekhyun’s back. Soon, his deep and husky voice booms in the room.

_Hey, dad. Look at me_

_Think back and talk to me_

_Did I grow up according to plan_

_And do you think I’m wasting my time_

_Doing things I wanna do_

_And it hurts when you disapproved all along_

_And now I try hard to make it_

_I just wanna make you proud_

_I’ll never gonna be good enough for you_

_You can’t pretend that I’m alright_

_And you can’t change me_

_‘Cause we –_

Chanyeol flutters his eyes open Baekhyun steals the line and he is brought back to the day when he sees him as nothing but a noisy thing. He shudders at his voice, trembling but not weak. It is soft and calm and cool and pained but it warms his insides.

_‘Cause we lost it all_

_Nothing lasts forever_

_I’m sorry, I can’t be perfect_

_Now it’s just too late_

_And we can’t go back_

_I’m sorry, I can’t be perfect_

Baekhyun stops at the chorus, breaking his own voice at the lump forming in his throat. Chanyeol does not dare continue the song. Instead, he pulls him closer to his body, both his arms holding the rebel, afraid that if he lets go, Baekhyun will fall apart.

“I’m happy, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun sniffs and nuzzles closer to him. That you are here now. My wait is over.”

 

*

 

The moment Chanyeol steps inside the cafeteria, his heart flies automatically in his throat. The pulsating stone-like flesh makes his breathing difficult.

 _Where did all my confidence go?_ He wants to berate himself, scowling mentally.

He does not know if he will survive his initiation and the things that will happen after. _After he fails_. And he shudders at the thought of being kicked out with nowhere left to go to. It is a good thing that Baekhyun’s warm presence beside him is toning down the chills that travels in his spine. It is still a wonder for Chanyeol, however, that Baekhyun soothes him in ways that surprises him very much.

And he wonders that _he still wonders_ about the rebel’s effect on him, as if experiencing it for the first time. And surprisingly, Chanyeol catches himself thinking about him again, instead of focusing on his initiation.

“Yeol, don’t worry so much. Nothing bad will happen to you,” Baekhyun smiles at him with a light squeeze on his arm. “I’m here.”

And for the nth time, Chanyeol screams at himself. _Damn it, Chanyeol! Focus!_

The cafeteria is jam-packed like the first night he arrived. All are dressed in red and white cocktail dresses and suits. The spotlights on the stage are turned on, peppering the curtains with balls of white, red, and golden lights. It is snowing outside yet the hall is burning with enthusiasm and energy and warm smiles. Chanyeol feels hot too, palms and forehead sweaty from nervousness.

As they walk to their spots in the table for the generals, Chanyeol makes sense of some words above the clamour of chatter.

“It’s General Park’s son.”

“I can’t wait to hear him.”

“Does he sing?”

“Is there a party? Will the initiation be here? Will they see me?” Chanyeol asks, rolling his questions like he forgot the punctuations.

As usual, Baekhyun just grins at him, a glint in his eyes. “Calm down. Everything will be fine.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you, Baek. I’m really nervous right now.” He pats his chest, massaging his heart and exhaling deeply.

“Don’t be.” Baekhyun holds his hand and leads him to their seats, not bothering to hide their intimacy from the others. His long fingers and soft palm give Chanyeol a different kind of nervousness. Somewhat akin to the rattled butterflies inside your stomach when the object of your affection is this near.

_Affection._

Even as they near the others who are blatantly grinning at them, except for Lu Han who looks apprehensive – maybe because of the condition of his family under the hold of the New World, Baekhyun does not let go of his hand. Seemingly unperturbed and could care any less at their stares and the banters that would soon come out of their lips.

“Is it official?” Yixing blurts out, asking no one in particular.

“Maybe,” Minseok shrugs, playing with his own fingers on the table. “And as if _this_ is not enough of a confirmation.”

Chanyeol admits he does not care too. The warm hand grasping his is just what he needs to survive whatever initiation he would be doing tonight. The warm hand grasping his is just what he needs to ignore his wild heart beating loudly because of nervousness. The warm hand grasping his is just what he needs to ignore their smirks and teases.

It is in this moment that Chanyeol almost admits that the warm hand grasping his is just what he needs.

“I hope you are well-rested, General Park,” Joonmyeon greets, his smile turning from playful to innocent. “At exactly 8:30 PM, after the dinner is served, we will start your initiation.”

At the mention of the last word, Chanyeol’s heart is nothing but a wild bird that demands freedom from its cage again. Though its wings flutter a little more violently now.

“Don’t scare him,” Baekhyun rolls his eyes at Joonmyeon before turning to Chanyeol with another soft smile. “I’ll sit beside you, if you don’t mind.” He takes a seat beside him which was supposed to be Kyungsoo’s place.

Chanyeol really does not mind and he likes it that Baekhyun is near. However, at the back of his mind, the rebel would still sit beside him even though he says he does not want to. So he settles himself too, lacing his fingers together and resting them on his lap, feeling the soft cotton of his pants.

Baekhyun lets him borrow some clothes and it is so fortunate for them that they all fit. The cotton and the silk hugging his skins and muscles perfectly. An ebony polo, with a red ribbon, is tucked in his pants elegantly. His hair is brushed up, all tangles gone. His fading bruises faint even more at the powder they put on his face.

Chanyeol looks at himself in the mirror a while ago and if Baekhyun did not comment that he looks so handsome and daring, he would not have believed himself. At the back of his mind, he thinks that everyone should look good at the day of their sacrifice. Chanyeol gulps down, running his tongue to wet his lips then grimacing at the taste of the balm applied to him.

The dinner is served and the hall falls at the mercy of clanking utensils, laughters and banters, and chitchats of the rebels. Chanyeol cannot deny the feeling of celebration in the ambiance. Just like the usual party his family hosts when they all believed that the war is over. Even the quality and the quantity of the food speaks of festivity.

“I can’t wait to see your performance, General Park,” Jongin mutters with a wide smile on his face. All trace of seriousness from their meeting a while ago gone. He forks his beef and stuffs rice in his mouth, looking very much satisfied with his grin. “I remember my initiation days.”

Chanyeol gapes at him. “Performance?”

“Knock it off, Jongin,” Jongdae gives him a look to shut him up. “You don’t spoil the surprise.”

“Knock it off, Jongdae,” Baekhyun borrows his words and his tone. “You don’t scare Chanyeol.”

“Knock it off, Baekhyun,” Sehun follows, as expected. “You don’t break the rules.”

Chanyeol breaks into a big grin, almost laughing at the childishness of the district generals. Are they always like this? Funny and witty and immature and soft? He wants to ask. But instead, he remains quiet and listens more to their wisecracks.

“Since when did you care about the Manifesto?” Baekhyun counters with an innocent look on his face as he munches his salad.

Sehun swigs his drink before pulling off his banter. “Since when did that become part of the Manifesto?”

Baekhyun throws him a look of repugnance and bewilderment. His lips parting slightly to ask an unspoken question.

“Aren’t you the one who proposed to keep the _initiation_ a secret from new generals and new Aeries?” Jongdae asks, sipping his own drink and hiding his grin behind the glass.

 _Aeris_. It is the second time Chanyeol hears the word. He makes a mental note of asking about it to Baekhyun later.

“Yeah,” Sehun adds. “And since when did General Byun break his own rule?”

The others are obviously holding their laughter, and so is Chanyeol. It is as if the biggest punch line has not yet been dropped and they await for the person who will deliver it. Chanyeol shivers, having a feeling that he will be involved in that _punch line_ to burn Baekhyun more.

They always burn Baekhyun through their jests and Chanyeol wonders why. _Why is it always Baekhyun?_

Minseok clears his throat, still having that look of innocence. “Since General Park arrived?”

Among all them, it is only Minseok who throws a question that functions as an answer. And at that moment, Chanyeol changes his question. From why is it always Baekhyun, it becomes _why is it always Baekhyun and Chanyeol?_

“I didn’t tell him about the initiation. Jongin did,” Baekhyun scowls at them, the rise of his temper evident in his red cheeks and lethal looks. “Don’t put this on me.”

“So it’s a performance?” Chanyeol intervenes, saving him and Baekhyun from the hot seat and attempting to know more about his initiation. He smiles inwardly at the thought that he will not be sacrificed.

Sehun is reluctant yet he still answers after a few seconds. “Yep. You have to do something for us. Maybe sing or dance or do magic tricks or –”

“Put General Byun in a cabinet and make him disappear forever,” Lu Han says plainly. His face is devoid of any emotion that would somehow suggest that he is joking. He stands up, without finishing his food. He eyes Baekhyun coldly before walking out.

“What’s his problem?” Jongdae queries, tone a little acidic, seemingly offended on behalf of his best friend.

“Don’t mind him,” Sehun responds, also looking wary. “You know how tough it is for him right now. His family is not… well they’re good but anything can happen under the hold of the Silvers.”

Chanyeol finds himself pouting and thinks that maybe it is because of his idea of prioritizing the papers than the rescue. He looks at Baekhyun, swallowing his food as well as the lump forming his throat. He seems shaken at Lu Han’s statement. His eyes display something, Chanyeol thinks, that is akin to fear and remorse.

_What happened?_

Chanyeol would have asked everything from Baekhyun if it is not for the person who speaks in the stage, calling all their attention. At the voice booming loudly in the speakers, his heart races once more, his palms sweating amidst the coldness brought by the heavy snowfall outside.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen on the side of _humanity_ ,” a girl in her twenties speaks. There is a bright beam on her face and her eyes shimmer in anticipation. “I am Choi Mi Yen, an Aerie from District VI under General Byun Baek Hyun. It is a pleasure to have you here tonight to mark a very important event in the Resistance Order.”

There are loud cheers and claps that halt her from speaking. Chanyeol is aware of a number of stares on him. The number of _smiles. This is it_ , he thinks. The start of his initiation.

“I am very honoured to announce that finally,” Miyen continues, smiling at the audience and locking a gaze with Chanyeol for a brief moment. “After four years, the Third Generation, Assembly of Twelve, is complete.”

Baekhyun’s hand rests on Chanyeol’s lap underneath the table. He gives him a light squeeze as an assurance and as a welcoming gesture and Chanyeol takes it gladly. He places his own hands atop Baekhyun’s and holds it tight. To soothe Baekhyun in the same way he eases him.

“Today, we welcome General Park Chan Yeol of District VIII in our community to fight against those who threaten our existence. Against those who forgot a moment in time where morals lead the way, where truth is the greatest god, and where humanity has no limits.”

The screams are louder this time. There are fists in the air while the others thump their tables in excitement and glee.

“We won’t change colors!” The crowd screams after. “Red is still the color of humanity!”

“Aeries, let us call on General Kim Joonmyeon of District IV, to formally introduce General Park to the Red Blood Community.”

Claps and cheers resound once more and it has not died until Joonmyeon reaches the stage, grabs the mic, and clears his throat. Chanyeol’s heart does not tire from slamming against his chest. He holds Baekhyun’s hand tighter.

“Thank you, Miyen,” Joonmyeon starts. “Good evening, Aeries. Today marks another milestone in the Resistance Order. I could never be prouder of what we have become and what we have achieved after the third world war. I am very much honoured to witness such event where all my brothers will be with me on the other side of this war; fighting with morality for humanity.

“It has been four years since he graduated from the military academy where he met the other generals, like General Lu Han, General Yi Xing, and General Kyung Soo. It has been four years since we started our waiting for his arrival. And that four years is finally over.”

The rebels do not seem tired of shouting; do not seem hurt of clapping their hands even though it is already red from banging against the tables or against each other’s palms. The cheers and the claps are at its peak of loudness.

Chanyeol has to shout his whisper to Baekhyun. “Baek, I’m really nervous right now.”

Baekhyun turns to him with a wide encouraging smile. “Don’t be. I told you, you’ll enjoy this.”

Without even a preamble, Baekhyun leans in to kiss his lips. It is just a soft peck yet he lingers a little longer that Chanyeol has to shut his eyes close to feel him _more_. In this instant, Chanyeol’s anxiety melts away, as so as his insides. His muscles and bones wobble.

When Baekhyun pulls away, his hand cups Chanyeol’s face, his thumb putting soothing circles in his cheek. He plasters another soft smile before turning away from Chanyeol to look at the stage again. Their hands are intertwined underneath the table.

“I told you it’s official.” Minseok says and Chanyeol ignores him.

“Aeries, let us all welcome, General Park Chan Yeol of District VIII.”

Baekhyun stands up, pulling Chanyeol with him and they head to the stage with their hands lace together. Chanyeol cannot feel his knees and his feet as they walk; one, because the cheering and the smiling crowd is so surreal; and two, Baekhyun tightens his warm hold on his hand.

But as soon as Chanyeol reaches the stage, he immediately wants to back away. He is not the one who stands under the limelight. Yes, he always hosts party and attends meetings but he would always prefer to be behind the scenes of everything. Seeing everyone celebrating from the back. Hearing updates of peace talks from the back. If it is not for the hands shaking him and beckoning him to the center, he would have sprinted outside the cafeteria already. He tries to gulp his anxiety away and plasters a smile, returning their welcoming gesture.

Joonmyeon attaches a pin to the left side of Chanyeol’s polo. The pin is a little heavy, considering its size. _Resistance Order_ is carved on the pin in gold steel.

“Congratulations, General Park Chanyeol,” Joonmyeon salutes him. Baekhyun does the same, letting go of his hand to put some distance between them. He looks at Chanyeol with his _loving_ and proud eyes. His teeth are flashed and Chanyeol thinks he is blinded by how white they are. It takes him a moment to realize that the hall falls silent.

Chanyeol eyes the crowd and he sees that everyone is on their feet too. Arms straight and tensed as they salute him. They stay like that for, in Chanyeol’s opinion, a little longer than necessary. At the back of his mind, he is a little thankful of the blinding gold and red lights, they hide his crimson cheeks.

“Welcome to the Resistance Order,” Baekhyun speaks, just loud enough for all of them in the stage to hear.

Miyen comes to him first, still with a warm smile on her lips. “It is my honor to meet you in person, General Park. We have waited for you for so long.”

When Joonmyeon and Baekhyun bring their arms down, everyone is screaming and jeering again. More loud thumps of the table are audible. “Park Chan Yeol! Park Chan Yeol! Park Chan Yeol!” They chant his name and Chanyeol, at this point, does not deny that he loves it. All nervousness and anxiety brewing in his heart since earlier this morning are swept away like a dust.

Baekhyun’s cheery and lively voice booms in the hall. “Alright, Aeries. Please settle down. As part of our tradi –”

But the crowd is not calming down, still celebrating and chanting the newly welcomed general.

So Baekhyun has to shout, “YAA!! YEOROBUN!”

Chanyeol laughs light heartedly, finding Baekhyun cute. Even in his ill-tempered moments like this. The crowd’s noise tone down a little because laughter immediately takes place of the screams.

“Okay, so as part of our tradition,” Baekhyun returns his jovial mood. “General Park Chanyeol will be performing something for us today. You will be the one to decide whether he passed his initiation or not. If he passed, then, indeed, he is a part not only of the Resistance Order but also the Red Blood Community. But if he fails, well…” Baekhyun eyes Chanyeol playfully. “We will have more of him on the coming days.”

“We were informed that General Park plays guitar, bass, drums, and piano so we have high hopes that he will succeed this initiation easily,” Joonmyeon adds, giving him an encouraging look. “Chanyeol? What instrument would you want to accompany you tonight?”

“Guitar.” Chanyeol says a little too quickly. Feeling at ease.

Soon, a guitar is brought to him by Miyen and he feels the instrument at the hard presses of his fingers. It has been a while since he has played and jammed with his friends. It has been a while since he has played and jammed with his father. He smiles at the crowd then at the people on the stage.

 _I will do this for Dad_ , he says mentally.

“Aeries, please welcome, our one and only, General Park,” Baekhyun announces and signals the start of his performance. They walk to the side to give him the stage. Baekhyun crosses his arms on his chest, anticipating.

Chanyeol sits on the stool at the middle, squinting his eyes because of the bright lights. But the lights immediate tone down as he hears Baekhyun ordering some people. “Turn the disco ball off, for fuck’s sake!”

“Calm down, Baekhyun. They’re just lights,” Chanyeol hears Joonmyeon’s hushes, countering Baekhyun’s annoyed tone with his soft voice.

“They’re blinding him!”

Chanyeol wants to listen more but he is drowning again at the shouts of the rebels before him, encouraging him to start. So he does. He tests the strings if they are tuned before giving it a loud strum and the crowd goes wild. He sees the generals grinning at him, their eyes are nothing but excited.

Pressing his fingers on the respective strings and frets, he exhales loudly and closes his eyes. He strums the chords and his performance starts.

_When you were here before_

The crowd’s gasp is so loud that Chanyeol struggles to focus. There are _ooooohs_ from them and he wonders what is with his voice to earn such a compliment.

_Couldn’t look you in the eyes_

_You’re just like an angel_

_Your skin makes me cry_

_You float like a feather_

_In a beautiful world_

_You’re so very special_

_I wish I was special_

Chanyeol pauses dramatically. Though he remains his eyes closed, he smiles warmly at the people in front of him before strumming another chord and rolls off the chorus with the same husky and a little hoarse voice of his. He smiles even more when the crowd cheers again, banging the tables with much enthusiasm.

_But I’m a creep_

_I’m a weirdo_

_What the hell I’m doing here?_

_I don’t belong here_

_I don’t belong here_

The rebels make a loud noise that is akin to hurt and Chanyeol realizes that it is because of the sad message of his song. _I don’t belong here_ seems to be inappropriate considering their genuine welcome. But he cannot deny that this is what he felt during the first days of his stay. He feels out of place with no understanding of their world. Chanyeol just prays and hopes that the rebels like his voice so he could pass his initiation.

Baekhyun comes to him and speaks on his microphone. “Whoa! That was so wonderful. Don’t you agree, Aeries?”

The rebels yell with the same heat and passion and Chanyeol sighs in contentment. Maybe he can pass his initiation in one go.

“So how was it?” Baekhyun asks the golden question. “As usual, clap your hands if he passed but shout _boo_ if he didn’t. On the count of three, let me hear you.”

The crowd is silent and Chanyeol thinks he can be buried alive with their blank stares atop of him. He breathes heavily, trying to gasp for some air as his lungs constrict in nervousness.

Baekhyun counts with his fingers gesturing the numbers. “One. Two. Three.”

Chanyeol closes his eyes and it does not take a long moment for him to hear nothing but claps and thumps and cheers. He sighs inwardly, smiling at everyone.

“Wow!” Baekhyun claps his hands. “With an overwhelming number of hands clapping right now, it is my pleasure to welcome General Park Chan Yeol in the Red Blood Community!”

“Park Chan Yeol! Park Chan Yeol! Park Chan Yeol!”

“General Byun!” Someone shouts from the crowd, somewhere in front. Her voice is loud enough that she catches Baekhyun’s attention.

“Yes, Hyumi?” Baekhyun acknowledges him. His greeting booming from the speakers. “You are under General Kim Joonmyeon, right? Aerie from District IV.”

“Yes, General,” Hyumi salutes, her smile as bright as the lights. The crowd is silent again, to hear what she has to say. “Can we ask General Park to sing one more song? His performance is too short.”

Upon hearing her request, the rebels go wild again. Thudding the tables and clanking their spoons and forks and screaming at the top of their lungs. “One more song! One more song! One more song!”

“General Park,” Baekhyun attends to him, still speaking on the microphone and smiling teasingly. “We can’t deny a request from an Aerie. What do you say?”

Chanyeol only nods, putting his own sheepish smile. He appreciates the fact that Baekhyun asks him even though it is obvious that he is left with no choice.

“Alright, Aeries! Settle down once again,” Baekhyun orders, looking and sounding like a teacher to his class full of not so well-mannered students. “Let’s hear it again from General Park Chanyeol!”

Chanyeol strums his guitar, realizing that maybe this will calm the wild Aeries. True enough, the crowd waits in silence and anticipation. For a brief moment, Chanyeol feels the adrenaline rush the others must have felt, not because of a possible counter or battle, but of the thrill in performing in front of so many expectators. With a willing heart, he accepts that he wants this kind of adrenaline rush. No violence. Just music. No pain. Just art.

Chanyeol wastes no time and plays the next song that comes his mind. Accompanied by his guitar, his deep voice reverberates in the hall again, captivating all the listeners. But deep inside him, he wishes that the rebels would understand the meaning he wants to say.

_Do you know what’s worth fighting for_

_When it's not worth dying for?_

_Does it take your breath away_

_And you feel yourself suffocating_

The rebels coo again, seemingly touch at the words though Chanyeol cannot confirm because his eyes remain shut. Some others are singing along with him, each voice low and faint but magnified all together.

_Does the pain weigh out the pride?_

_And you look for a place to hide_

_Did someone break your heart inside_

_You're in ruins_

Chanyeol pauses again. This time, he beckons them to join him. “If you know this song by a famous band of the 20th Century, feel free to sing with me.” He strums thrice, guiding the crowd into the song. Gladly, an Aerie plays the drums, helping them with the tempo. Three more thuds and their voices echo in the hall.

_One, 21 Guns_

_Lay down your arms_

_Give up the fight_

_One, 21 Guns_

_Throw up your arms into_ the sky

_You and I_

Chanyeol warms at the rebels when he opens his eyes. All of them are singing with a hand in the air and the other on their hearts. Like the song is a country anthem. Some are even getting emotional, with their eyes closed and tears brimming on the lids. Chanyeol proceeds to the climax of the song, making his voice soft as he whispers the next lines.

_Did you try to live on your own_

_When you burned down the house and home_

_Did you stand too close to the fire?_

_Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone_

Chanyeol stops strumming and just lets their raw voices sing the next lines. He ignores all other things and focuses on delivering his thoughts.

_When it's time to live and let die_

_And you can't get another try_

_Something inside this heart has died_

_You're in ruins_

The drum rolls and Chanyeol strums his guitar with much strength but this time, he remains his lips closed as he looks at the rebels singing before him. They are full of passion yet there is something in their voices telling him that they are also already tired of the war. He halts himself from tearing up and he admits, it takes him a lot of strength.

_One, 21 Guns_

_Lay down your arms_

_Give up the fight_

Seeing and knowing that there is war is one thing. But being at the frontier is a different story. There is too much pressure and pain and sacrifice, understanding that a life is in your hands. Chanyeol wonders, for a moment, how long have they been fighting? How many of their loved ones are killed? What exactly are they fighting for? How are they surviving the tragedies of everyday?

_Throw up your arms into the sky_

_You and I_

It takes Chanyeol a moment to realize that the song has ended. Good for his deft fingers, they stopped at their own accord even without the conscious command of his mind.

The next thing Chanyeol knows is that the crowd is cheering again, clapping their hands above their heads as they chant his name. Some are shouting their famous line. There is nothing more surreal than what Chanyeol is experiencing right now. Indeed, he is already at the forefront of _his_ people. At the forefront with the other generals. At the forefront of the war.

A pair of hands on his shoulder that beckons to look at him brings Chanyeol back to earth. He meets Baekhyun’s eyes, genuinely speaking of pride and affection.

“You did well, General Park.”

Chanyeol hisses playfully, rolling his eyes in an attempt to look irked. “What did I say about the general thing?”

“Hmn?”

Chanyeol smirks at his confused face before leaning in to capture his lips in the presence of many people. He feels Baekhyun smiling against his mouth before completely snaking his arms on his waist and destroys the distance between them.

As much as Chanyeol wants to shuts his mind and surrender to the feeling, he tries to describe every kiss that he has with Baekhyun. There is already the sensual kiss, when they were nothing but tension; a tempting kiss, somewhat teasing each other on who would give in first; there is also the sweet kiss, a soft peck that stays a little too long, the plain grazing of their soft lips.

And here is another: a playful one yet still full of passion and just as genuine. Baekhyun is hugging Chanyeol while his own arms remain limp on his side. It is a surprise that he can still grip the guitar he is holding. They smile on each other’s mouth, drowning at the contact and at the jeers of the people in front of them. It is sweet. Because Baekhyun has always tasted this sweet. His pink pouty lips never fail to ignite a spark inside him.

A spark that wants to bloom. Like a sapling wanting to be a flower to receive and give love. With a skipping heart, Chanyeol admits that he is falling… already.

 

*

 

The party lasted for another four hours and by the time Chanyeol walks to his room, a little groggy but still awake enough to be able to comprehend his surroundings, it is already thirty minutes passed two in the morning. He insists going to his bedroom first as Baekhyun quickly showers and change clothes to rid himself of the reek of alcohol.

Baekhyun, indeed, is one of the generals whose alcohol tolerance is beyond god-like. If Chanyeol counts correctly, he managed to finish three bottles of whisky in one sitting yet he is the most sober among them all. Chanyeol feels proud of himself, because he ranks second. Sehun and Jongin are probably snoring in their table, caring not if they pillow the cakes and brownies. Fortunately for all the others, they have managed to get to their rooms before their eyes shuts close. Though Joonmyeon is literally crawling towards the elevator and there is that possibility that he will wake up inside it.

As for Baekhyun, he is probably singing on the top of his lungs in his bathroom as he cleans himself, looking like he drank a gallon of water instead of alcohol. The only thing that someone can use to accuse him of being drunk is his flustered cheeks and red nose.

The party is what Chanyeol expected it to be. Loud and wild yet he does not imagine he would laugh his heart out with all the banters and jests of the generals who do not look like generals in the way they attack each other with their witty chats. Chanyeol concludes that Sehun is the wittiest while Baekhyun has the worst temper.

One of the most remarkable things he has realized in the brief span that he has been here with the rebels is that they look like they are in their _own_ world. Like there is no war going on outside and they have not seen death and blood have not stained their eyes and their hands. It is as if winter has not withered their hearts into a cold steel. Brotherhood, sisterhood, camaraderie, and trust are continuously brewing in this place.

Though there are times that Chanyeol would see glimpses of pain and hurt and tragedies in their eyes. Especially in Baekhyun, who stays with him without his walls up, crying and ranting to Chanyeol about life and death. Chanyeol knows they are tired, he is too! What he does not understand is how they manage to sputter crack jokes, how they smile, how they love, and how they trust amidst all this.

Then out of the blue, some words ring to him: _You speak like good and evil are the only ones to exist._

He sees his room and walks to it quickly, still thinking and remembering who said such words. But he halts when he sees that the door is slightly open and he hears a singing voice inside.

“Lu Han?” Chanyeol peers through the gap and sees him holding papers and shuffling page to page. The documents his father gave him is between Lu Han’s hands.

_Imagine there's no countries_

_It isn't hard to do_

_Nothing to kill or die for_

_And no religion, too_

_Imagine all the people_

_Living life in peace_

Chanyeol is brought back during their college days where music is not a normal thing. After the third World War, people could care less about the arts like books, painting, and music. Because they need to survive first and the appreciation of such things is the last in their priorities.

In secret meetings during late at night, they would sit together with Yixing and jam that sometimes last until the next day. It is from Lu Han that he learns that not all messages are meant to be said. Some are meant to be sung. It is from Yixing that he learns to hide from the nuances whenever saying things out loud is a heavy burden. It is from his dad that he learns to use metaphors as a safe haven when people fear to understand.

_You may say I'm a dreamer_

_But I'm not the only one_

_I hope someday you'll join us_

_And the world will be as one_

Chanyeol knows that Lu Han never sings a song that does not mirrors his heart and right now, he wonders at his song choice. Knocking twice, he enters his room and greets him with a sad smile.

“You’re not in the party. I thought you’re glad I’m finally here?”

“Sorry.” Lu Han places the papers down and sits comfortably on his bed. His hair is bushy and tangled and his eyes are beyond tired.  “Things are suffocating there. I… I need to breathe.”

Chanyeol walks to him, carefully placing the papers aside. “How are you? Exactly.”

“I have thoughts,” Lu Han starts, staring at the wall yet Chanyeol knows he is seeing beyond that. “What if we just surrender to the New World and stop all this. We can save many more lives if we do.”

“What are you saying?”

“It’s pointless. All of this. People are dying every day while we celebrate like our lives are not on the line. The New World is doing everything to make amends. To have peace,” Lu Han says, his voice is sad and torn and desperate. “Have you asked about the Order’s plans once we’re through with this?”

Chanyeol heaves a deep sigh, mustering his strength to bury the spirits of alcohol in his body. “All I know is that those who attempt to write a utopian novel, ends up publishing a dystopian book. Be careful in choosing your story.”

“Who doesn’t want peace, Chanyeol? Tell me.”

“Everybody is desperate. But we can’t lose focus. We’re doing everything to save your family and we –”

“You speak like you know them already,” Lu Han smirks at him, a warning flashing in his eyes. “There is so much more to learn about them. Everybody in here has secrets. And I’m losing my trust in the Resistance Order.”

Chanyeol recalls the way he looked at Baekhyun earlier and right now, he just confirmed one of his assumptions. Something might have happened between them. Something that threatens their relationship bonds.

“So Baekhyun has been keeping secrets from you?” Chanyeol asks.

And Lu Han answers a little too quickly, understanding what he means. “No. He is keeping secrets from you.”

“I’m sure it’s understandable since we just met like –”

“Like less than a month yet the way you kissed looks like you are a couple for almost a decade now. Is that what you mean? The rebels know so many things, that’s why they have survived this long without being exposed. Baekhyun is no different.”

Chanyeol shudders at his words because he feels the threat and the warning. “Lu Han, I understand if you won’t tell me what’s going on between you two. But I would appreciate it if you keep me out of this.”

“I want to keep you out of this. Yixing and I have been keeping you out of this. But Baekhyun is very much persistent on having you under surveillance. We told you we can’t just offer to you the Resistance Order since we thought General Park serves the New World. He is like a father to us and we can’t have him lose his only son.”

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” Chanyeol shakes his head. His mind swirls with doubts and fear.

“Don’t worry much that you don’t know the reason behind me telling you this. Worry more on why Baekhyun has to have you monitored. Worry more on why Baekhyun is like this to you.”

“Yixing told me because I was part of this all along and Baekhyun… we share the same tragedy.”

“You will be surprised at how _similar_ your tragedies are,” Lu Han says coldly.

And Chanyeol does not have an answer to that because he does not know a thing. So he changes the topic – the subject. “Yixing trusts the Resistance Order.”

“Yixing,” Lu Han takes a deep breath, sighing in defeat. “He’s starting to be blinded by the false ideals of the Resistance Order. I don’t know what’s happening anymore. What are we fighting for?”

Chanyeol settles on the answer he always use on questions like this though he knows Lu Han meant it to be rhetorical. “We fight for the lives we lost. The New World has taken too much from us.”

“Pride,” Lu Han smiles sadly, glancing at him. “Sometimes, the ones we lost is meant to be lost in the first place. We just always put the battles in our hands thinking that we can save the world. I don’t know… maybe because of our overblown sense of self-importance? To always be the hero of our story?”

“This is not about being a hero so everyone would clap their hands for you,” Chanyeol sounds irked because he is. Fighting for your family and the things you believed in is not for the purpose of boosting your ego. And as much as he wants to shout these words to his friend, he understands that Lu Han is shaken and bothered and hurt. “Your family is held hostage, Lu Han. I don’t think wanting to save them is an overblown sense of self-importance.”

“How do we save them without sacrificing a life?” Lu Han asks, his voice is taunting. “Of course, in the Resistance Order’s way, blood should spill. To prove that we are strong and we can win against them. Chanyeol, sometimes strength means surrender.”

“Everyone here has something to fight for. If you are losing hope, you have us for strength.”

Lu Han laughs lightly and Chanyeol acidly appreciates his effort. “You speak like you already know the way of the world.”

Chanyeol is taken a back. He looks shaken and offended is painted on his face. He knows that he does not know how the world works in the other side of the war. Baekhyun said it. He said the exact same words. Jongin has implied it too. He cannot take more people to shove it on his face. Because what is there to say? That they are doomed to die? Can’t they at least be grateful that there is still someone who keeps the weak fire lit?

“You can’t trust the Resistance Order,” Lu Han speaks when Chanyeol does not. He eyes him meaningfully, flicker of hope dancing in his eyes.

Chanyeol counters, sounding afraid. “You can’t trust the New World.”

“But I can trust you. And you can trust me. Kyungsoo is dead. You and Yixing are the only ones I have.”

“Kyungsoo is not dead,” Chanyeol says, his tone shifting from melancholy and weak to something firm and determined and sure.

“If that’s what you say,” Lu Han stands up, quirking his lips a little. “Just come to me when you have a change of heart. I’m always here.”

“Don’t tell me you have plans of betraying the Resistance Order. Our fathers fought hard for this.” Chanyeol stands up too, levelling his dark gaze on Lu Han’s.

“I don’t have plans of betraying the Resistance Order.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

“Opening your eyes to the real world. You can’t save everyone. You can only save yourself. And don’t tell me this is selfishness. You can’t blame me for wanting to live my life.”

“What are you fighting for, Lu Han?”

Lu Han swallows a lump and Chanyeol sees it. He sees him concealing something. His pain, his exhaustion. “I’m tired of fighting. Just think Chanyeol. Think. What if the New World is right all along?”

“The New World has killed so many of us!”

“And you think Resistance Order hasn’t killed anyone? We are also guilty of their deaths. Because we think we can win a war that has been lost,” Lu Han is almost yelling and his voice breaks as a lump tries to get out of his throat. “Don’t let your pride bring you down like the others. This is a war we cannot win.”

“There is something I learned from my Dad.” Chanyeol sits down again, back arching from exhaustion and from the alcohol. He almost wants to faint. “The uncurable are those who believe that there is no way. You lost, Lu Han. Because you believe you did and I’m sorry for you.”

This is not the conversation he would have expected from his best friend. But he cannot blame him. Everyone is desperate and tired and sick. Chanyeol does not mean it as an offense but clearly, when he looks up, he sees Lu Han’s eyes. _Hurt_ and pleading. Tears are brimming in his lids and he brings his hand to his face immediately to wipe them away.

“You know where to find me when everything crumbles down. I just want to protect you, Chanyeol.”

Lu Han gives him a gentle pat on the shoulder before he turns around and walks away. Chanyeol lies on his back and exhales all the air in his lungs. Somehow he is thankful for the alcohol pooling in his system as he hopes it can drown his thoughts.

But no, he stays awake and alive and he dreads the next day. When he will face Baekhyun and the others again.

Lu Han just slaps him in the face with the fact that he knows nothing. About the Resistance Order. About the rebels. About Baekhyun. Who can Chanyeol trust? Though Lu Han offers himself with open arms, Chanyeol cannot deny that he is also keeping secrets from him. Something crucial. Something that says it is dangerous. His lungs constrict again and he struggles to grasp for air. He massages his chest to calm his heart and his mind. But it is a futile attempt.

With a painful heartbeat, it dawns on Chanyeol that they have really grown up. Gone are the innocence and the carelessness that they had before. Everyone is reserved and hiding. All walls are up. And if this is the _way_ of the world that they are talking about, Chanyeol will make sure to learn it as fast as he can.

 

***

 

**THE FALL**

Chanyeol surprises himself when he opens his eyes. He is surprised he was able to fall asleep amidst all the thinking and conspiracies running in his head. As he stretches and yawns, there is only one question plaguing his mind.

 _Who can he trust_? Because definitely, he needs someone to talk to or else, he will explode.

“Good morning, Yeol! Hangover, I suppose?”

“Baek,” Chanyeol turns to him, shocked. The sudden craning of his head cracks his neck and he scowls.

“I’m betting you’re too drunk last night. You didn’t even change your clothes.” Baekhyun looks at him with a grin as he dips the towel in the basin.

Chanyeol shudders because Baekhyun looks ethereal with the daylight behind him. His hair and his skin literally glow. For a moment, he just stares at him; admiring his beauty and fearing him at the same time.

“What’s the matter, Yeol?” Baekhyun asks, walking to him with the wet towel, concerned is written on his face. “Lie down, let’s remove your hangover. We have training later. You should start with –”

“Can I trust you, Baekhyun?” Chanyeol’s voice is grim though he does not intend it to be. He looks at Baekhyun straight in the eyes as he presses his lips together in a thin line.

Then he feels pathetic after it. Because, of course, who would answer _no_? It takes a great deal of time to say that you trust someone. Even his trust in Lu Han, though their friendship is forged by time and strengthened by circumstances, is shaky.

How much more for the rebel in front of him. He just met Baekhyun for less than a month. He has just talked to him in less than a week. There is so much to know. And he fears. Chanyeol fears the dark things Baekhyun is keeping.

The reality of his conversation with Lu Han is dawning at him and Chanyeol does not like the way his heart beats. It speaks of danger like Chanyeol is left in the wild full of predators. The worst thing is he does not know whether Lu Han is just another hunter seeking for shelter or another beast ready to attack.

As Chanyeol’s mind whirls, Baekhyun finds his way to him and pushes him on the bed. He puts the hot towel on his forehead then he starts wiping his cheeks. He has his soft smile that always makes Chanyeol weak.

“I understand if there are so many things you don’t know and you want answers. I cannot tell you also who are those you can trust. That word is a very dangerous thing at times like this. You don’t know who is after your welfare or just after the things you have.” Baekhyun unfastens the first few buttons of Chanyeol’s polo then splits it apart to give him a better access to his skin.

Chanyeol is electrified at the small touches of Baekhyun’s fingers in his chest as he puts the towel to clean him, pressing and massaging gently. The rebel starts from his neck down. The pads of the towel is followed by his soft hands, traversing and kneading Chanyeol’s skin with _genuine_ care.

Maybe, this is a jungle after all. And people survive because of their instinct. As Baekhyun attends to him, Chanyeol takes the silence as an opportunity to think.  Relying on his _own_ instinct, Chanyeol admits that he feels danger as he spoke to Lu Han – his words bearing much more than what he actually said. Lu Han’s words felt heavy to carry.

As for Baekhyun, as much as Chanyeol wants to deny it, _genuine_ is always the word he attaches to the rebel. _Genuine smile. Genuine kiss. Genuine care. Genuine touch._ Even it is just less than a month that he met him. Even it is just less than a week since they talked.

 _Genuine_. Chanyeol fights against his body when Baekhyun delicately presses his buds and his core rings. He closes his eyes and heaves a deep breath. Hoping that Baekhyun would not sense his arousal.

_Focus Chanyeol. Focus._

Baekhyun must have thought that Chanyeol is still drunk because the latter makes no move to explain why he had not changed his clothes or why he looked so morose and drunk. He has no strength in sharing what he Lu Han talked about last night.

It does not also help as he is further weakened when Baekhyun unfastens the rest of the buttons and slides the sleeves on his arms. The hot towel makes its way to Chanyeol’s shoulder, over his healing wound then going down to his arms. Chanyeol’s skin is searing, from the hot towel and Baekhyun’s touches. The snowfall must be offended right now, because its cold caress is nothing compared to Baekhyun’s warmth.

Chanyeol thinks that he is teasing him again, but looking at the rebel suggests otherwise. Baekhyun’s face is focused as he nurses him, holding him with fragility.

There is this word again. _Fragile_ . This is how Chanyeol feels whenever Baekhyun will hold him. He feels like baby that is so innocent and so vulnerable. Chanyeol almost asks out loud, _what are you Baekhyun, in this jungle? A predator or a hunter?_

“What are you after?” Chanyeol questions, instead. Closing his eyes and beckoning himself; for his mind to stop swirling and for his body to stop burning.

Soon, the hot towel is gone and Baekhyun reaches for the lotion on the other side of the bed. As he grabs the bottle, he accidentally elbows Chanyeol’s length and the latter groans.

Baekhyun, clearly, is not teasing because he just smiles, making no further comment about how hard Chanyeol is right now. He coats his hands with the lotion and massages Chanyeol’s upper body again. “I’m after you.”

Baekhyun’s hands are soft yet strong. His thumbs put the right amount of pressure to the pulse points in Chanyeol’s neck, sliding up and down slowly. Chanyeol is rendered helpless so he remains his eyes closed, lower lip caught between his teeth. Baekhyun’s palms travel down the middle of his chest with circling touches until they pad the hard nipples. His thumbs massage around the roused buds before kneading them gingerly.

Chanyeol almost wants to moan, his eyes at the back of his head. “Baek –”

Baekhyun does not respond, his hands just travel down his torso where he starts massaging again but being careful when his hand slides to his side, where there is also a healing wound. “Where did you get this? Are you stabbed?”

“No,” Chanyeol flushes at how he rolls the word off. He is breathless, almost panting at the sensation. He feels embarrassed right now that he is bluntly arousing himself before Baekhyun. “Glass shard. When the bomb was dro… dropped.”

He hears Baekhyun chuckles. “I can help you with the release if you want to.”

But Baekhyun being Baekhyun, he does not need a response – more particularly, he does need to hear a _yes_. After he massages his shoulders, his arms, and his hands, more sensual than earlier, his hands hover over Chanyeol’s length. Only the fabric of his pants separating his skin from the rebel’s touches.

Chanyeol arches his back at the contact and yields to Baekhyun’s hand, inhaling sharply. His fists gripping at the duvet. Baekhyun starts massaging his groin, bumping his length intentionally to arouse him more.

“Baek,” Chanyeol moans bluntly, his legs spreading wide to give the rebel a better access. Heat is creeping from his core to his cheeks and he admits that he is burning. There is no point in denying anymore. That he wants it. That he wants Baekhyun to touch him. Thinking that his touches can prove something. Hoping that his touches would answer his question. _Can I trust you?_ “Touch me.”

Baekhyun does not move, only his deft hands do. He unbuttons Chanyeol’s pants delicately, as if wanting to see him wait in anticipation. Standing up, he peels his bottoms off his legs then his socks. He sits back down again as he squirts lotion on his hands. This time he starts with his foot.

Chanyeol has tickles in this part of his body yet instead of laughing, he groans in pleasure. Baekhyun holds his right foot and his fingers draw hard patterns on his heel up. He repeats the gesture over and over again and Chanyeol’s mouth is a perfect ‘O’, his body squirming and shivering on the sheets. He does the same sensual massage on the other until his hands make its way to his legs up to his thighs. His undergarment looks like a tent, with his standing length as the one erecting the fabric.

Chanyeol is nothing but a moaning mess while Baekhyun keeps his mouth shut as his deft fingers roam around his territory, seeking and claiming and conquering. He thumbs his inner thighs slowly, obscenely and as much as Chanyeol wants to hold onto his sanity, the touches Baekhyun makes melt his rational thoughts and all the things he thought about last night.

Baekhyun inches closer to him and spreads his leg more, folding his knees up. He runs a hand on his hole, his thumb pressing circular pressures on the rim and Chanyeol practically shouts at the overwhelming sensation. No one has done this to him before. Chanyeol willingly lets his guard down to let Baekhyun near. To let him _in_. His rational mind speaks of confirming trust but his body has long surrendered to the rebel.

The time has finally come when Baekhyun holds Chanyeol’s stones and he kneads it too. He squeezes with the right amount of weight and his palm encloses around it, to keep it warm. His other hand travels on his length, unsheathing it from the foreskin as his forefinger and thumb touch the pulsating raw flesh.

Soon, Baekhyun is pumping him, slowly at first then picking up speed then back to being slow. It is as if he is indulging him in this sensual and pleasurable torture. Chanyeol wants to reach the high already but he is still enjoying the way Baekhyun builds him. The rebel’s other hand already abandons his stones and Chanyeol takes a moment before his mind registers something is trying to enter his body.

A thumb is massaging his rim again, seemingly knocking so it can enter. But then again, Baekhyun being Baekhyun, he does not need any response. Soon, his forefinger is slithering its way to his hole, gyrating and swirling inside his walls, like a pencil inside a sharpener. Chanyeol lets out a voiceless scream, his hands throwing up above his head. He cranes his neck side to side, hot and bothered and open.

Baekhyun is gasping too, because of the tightness and the warmth. He continues pleasuring Chanyeol, pumping him hard until a whitish liquid is leaking out of his slit. His thumb presses on it and spreads the ooze on his whole length. He adds another finger and cuts Chanyeol open.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whimpers again, voice hoarse and low and deep and husky. Soon, the rebel is chorusing moans and groans with him and Chanyeol hears the blissful blend of their voices. His legs are shaking, begging for release.

The rebel scratches his walls, hitting the sweetest spot Chanyeol did not know was there until now and he comes in the matter of seconds. Jumping to euphoria and ecstasy as he explodes in Baekhyun’s fist. The rebels still squeezes him just right, prolonging the sensation. The searing pleasure.

When he comes down from the high, Baekhyun lets go of his hold and his length goes limp, red from the touches and squeezes and massages. His legs fall hard with a loud thud on the mattress, very much spent. Chanyeol does not bother opening his eyes as remains on the bed, hot and naked before Baekhyun. As he regains his breaths and calms his heart, a hot towel presses against his swelling length. Baekhyun cleans him of the sticky release and Chanyeol finds himself smiling. Very much satisfied.

“It’s so hard to be alone. Fighting and living and alone,” Baekhyun starts, his voice is reeked with forlorn and guilt. “I have put so many lives in my hands. Maybe, just maybe. You are the only thing I did right in this world. Maybe I can forgive myself after all, after this. You don’t have to trust me. But I trust you, Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun stands up with the basin on his hand before crouching down again to put a swift kiss on Chanyeol’s lips.

 

*

 

“Sehun and half of the Aeries will monitor the vicinity and put the cameras on so we can see the progress. By evening, they will come back and report.” Baekhyun types some files on his computer and his screen flashes a loading bar.

It is exactly ten in the morning and Chanyeol is in Baekhyun’s office since the Assembly agreed to put him in the Intelligence and Strategy Committee. He still has not make up his mind from his questions yet he needs to focus first if he wants to survive the day. It is fortunate for him that Baekhyun makes no move of opening up the _thing_ they did earlier so his hands does not appeal so much as a distraction to Chanyeol.

Another thing he learns from the rebel is that when it is time for work, he is nothing but serious and diligent and very much wary of the time. Chanyeol feels weird because he is more used to playful and flirty and soft Baekhyun.

Without standing up, Baekhyun drags his rolling chair and he pulls out the paper from the printer then hands it to Chanyeol. “Here’s your schedule for today and the rest of the week. Fortunate for you, Sehun is not here so you have a long break.” He goes back to his post and continues typing.

 

_29 10:00 – 12:00         STRATEGIES TRAINING_

_29 12:00 – 13:00          LUNCH BREAK_

_29 13:00 – 15:00          TRAINING (SHOOTING)_

_29 15:00 – 17:00          TRAINING (ARMORIES)_

_29 17:00 – 19:00          TRAINING (COMBAT)_

_29 19:00 – 20:00          DINNER_

 

“Uhm,” Chanyeol starts, dragging his own chair beside Baekhyun. “What should I do here? How am I supposed to train?”

“I am investigating some cases before.” Baekhyun clicks and a word document and an audio file pop out. “I’m trying to connect some dots. Lu Han says it’s futile but there is something I’m missing.”

“Lu Han read these?” Chanyeol queries, his eyebrow arching. _I thought they are not okay_ . Then Chanyeol counters himself. _Oh right, professionalism_.

“He did but without my consent. It is written in the manifesto that no one should have access to the documents unless permitted by the OIC. So technically, that’s barging.”

“Is that the reason you’re not in good terms now?”

“He accused me of treachery. He thought I was hiding something from the Order. If I know, he’s the one hiding something. But I’m investigating Kyungsoo’ death.”

“Kyungsoo is not dead,” Chanyeol says again with the same determined and irritated voice.

“I started investigating when you told us that,” Baekhyun explains. “You see, Kyungsoo is not the type to just run away and leave us. Not when he has the list and your dad is on it. There must be something. Listen to this.”

Baekhyun puts the headphones in Chanyeol’s ears and clicks the play button. He hears a voice coming from a phone call.

 _Meet me in 6_ _th_ _street at exactly three in the afternoon. Usual café. It’s urgent._

“I know this voice,” Chanyeol comments.

“General Lu Han.”

“What about him?”

“This phone call was made during the first bombing in the city.” Baekhyun exits the audio file and walks to the door, making sure it is locked. “Why would Lu Han call and meet him there when we all know that the bombing would be near the 6th street at exactly 3:00?”

“What if it’s really urgent? Lu Han has to –”

“Lu Han was with us. He was with us in the conference as we wait for Kyungsoo. Our plans were set. Right after we retrieve the document, we will be saving the second generation Assembly.”

“I don’t understand, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol shakes his head, unable to comprehend his point.

“It’s either Lu Han made the phone call or someone used his voice with some sort of device. Either way, I think a traitor is inside these walls.”

“What?” Chanyeol huffs, forehead creasing in disbelief. There goes the _betrayal_ again. “Wait, how about checking his phone to confirm?”

“His phone was stolen. Well, that’s what he said,” Baekhyun’s face is contorted in suspicion and Chanyeol does not like where they are heading.

Lu Han said he cannot trust Baekhyun. Baekhyun implies Lu Han can be a part of something suspicious. What now?

“Then maybe the snatcher used his phone to call Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol tries to provide a more rational justification to save Lu Han. “Do you know someone form the New World who can do this?”

“I’m positive it’s not from the New World. They don’t know yet about the Assembly of Twelve. Kyungsoo is not even famous. Even his family do not appeal to the general public. Why would the New World care about him? And tracing the timeline, Lu Han lost his phone the day after the bombing, when we were trying to find his body.”

“Baekhyun, Lu Han can’t betray the Resistance Order if that’s what you want to mean. Kyungsoo is our best friend.”  Chanyeol recalls the exchange of words last night. The image of Lu Han’s face as he said ‘ _Kyungsoo is dead. You and Yixing are the only ones I have’_ is a clear proof to deny Baekhyun’s allegations.

“Also,” Baekhyun walks back to his chair, scratching his chin with his finger and ignoring him. “On your party, the first time we met. That is the first time we are ransacked by the Silvers. Someone must be tipping them.”

“Baekhyun, the Silvers have been raiding for the past months. Their visit has no significance or whatsoever in what you are trying to say.”

“Is it not weird, Yeol?” Baekhyun gazes at him meaningfully, still ignoring his replies. “Remember the encounter we had on your basement? The rebels said that General Park sent them. That was just two or three weeks ago? When did your father denounce the New World?”

“The day I started resistance,” Chanyeol speaks, remembering his father’s poem as something clicks in his mind, eyes widening in fear that he does not understand. “When was the Resistance announced?”

“What?” Baekhyun turns to him in confusion.

“The Riddance, I mean.” Chanyeol’s pitch is suddenly high. “My Dad wrote a poem. He said that he wrote it the day he started resistance. He also told me that he wasn’t theirs – New World, when he found out about the Riddance.”

“The Riddance made it to the public one year ago,” Baekhyun supplies. “The list never made it to us. That’s so crucial. It has the dates of their membership. But connecting that to the picture…”

“Wait,” Chanyeol raises a finger to halt them both. “So it is possible that my Dad did not send them but someone.”

“Someone who knows that more than half of your attendees are Rebels. That five generals were there. Even before the Riddance was announced publicly, it is possible that the core people in the New World knew about it already. Your dad knew that already. It can’t be him.”

Yixing, Lu Han, Baekhyun, Minseok, and Jongdae were there. But something pops in Chanyeol’s mind and he voices it out without further hesitation. “Why didn’t they just bomb us that night? If they planned to attack.”

“I’ve been thinking about it too. Though I’m happy we are alive, but what could be –”

“There must be someone in that event that they don’t want to kill. Or something. It’s my place after all. They might have assumed there are important documents there.”

Silence lingers and billows over them. Both their eyebrows furrow to understand something that they might have missed. Baekhyun wanders his gaze, looking for answers in the wall until Chanyeol sees an imaginary bulb popping on his head. “You are there, Yeol.”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “I am an easy target. I’m not part of the Order yet.”

Baekhyun looks at him, gaze heavy and dangerous. “You might have something that they want. Everyone is racing for the documents you have, Chanyeol. That’s why I want to bring you here as soon as possible, Chanyeol. The reason I have you monitored.”

Chanyeol is taken a back at his sudden explanation, even without him asking for it. They stare at each other as Baekhyun spills _some_ of the things he wants to know. The things he _might need_ to know.

“Everyone is racing for you. I do not mean to pry on your life. But I monitored the people you interact with and you are not safe outside. Lu Han wants access on the recordings but I can’t give him that. I only share to the Assembly what I deem necessary for our plans to work. He hates me for it.”

Chanyeol does not feel that Lu Han would really betray the Resistance Order, although he honestly admits that he is losing his faith. While Baekhyun sees it as an act of betrayal, Chanyeol sees it as Lu Han trying to put the matters on his hands.

“Lu Han can’t betray the Order. That’s what I’m sure of,” Chanyeol plasters a soft smile, wishing Baekhyun would understand.

“Someone from the Red Blood Community is selling us to the Silvers. That’s what I’m sure of.”

“Have you told the others?” Chanyeol queries.

“No, not yet. I have a feeling it’s someone from the Assembly.”

“Then why are you telling me this?”

Baekhyun beholds his gaze, his face serious and thoughtful. “I trust you.”

 

*

 

The day runs impossibly fast. One moment Chanyeol is practicing his shooting skills with the funny Jongdae, and now he is sparring with Kim Jongin who, in Chanyeol’s opinion, does not like him very much. He checks his time, fifteen more minutes and he will be done for today.

His body hurt from Jongin’s punches and his grins does not help so much. Chanyeol thinks Jongin is painting an abstract of violet and blue with his body as the canvass and the latter’s knuckles as the paintbrush. Though he appreciates Jongin’s effort for avoiding his healing wounds.

“Hyung!” Jongin yells from the other side of the ring, cracking his knuckles. His sweat is dripping from his forehead as they start for another round. “I am really honoured to have you here and train with you.”

“Yeah. So you could beat me up,” Chanyeol counters, eyeing him deadly as he cracks his own neck and prepares his body for another sparring session.

“What’s with the mood? Are you mad you haven’t won any round yet?” Jongin smirks at him flippantly.

“Maybe,” Chanyeol shrugs, his temper rising a little. “Or maybe because you’re taking an advantage of this training because you don’t like me that much?”

“Oh!” Jongin senses his acidic mood. “Is this about the meeting yesterday? Don’t take it personally. I really support your idea. I really do! It’s just that, I love challenging my hyungs for better ideas. I do that by going against their plans.”

Chanyeol only nods indifferently, denying that his heart warms as the younger explains.

“We are able to come up with more brilliant and safe plans and operations. I find it effective most of the time so I used it to you also. I’m sorry if you feel like I doubt you. But look at that! Your idea is so magnificent.”

“I don’t know if I can call it that,” Chanyeol shrugs, unconsciously pouting his lips. “I feel bad about Lu Han. His and Yixing’s family are on the line.”

Jongin eyes him for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if hesitant to speak. “Can I trust you, Chanyeol hyung?”

Chanyeol sighs, almost loudly. That question does not tire in plaguing him and he frustrates himself because of the lack of answers. “Can you?”

“I want to.”

“I still have a lot to prove to the Order before you can actually trust me,” Chanyeol warns him and it is not because he cannot be trusted, but the younger needs to know a thing or two before bringing his guards down and make himself vulnerable.

“You’re against the New World. What more could I ask for?”

“You speak like Red and Silver are the only colors in the spectrum.”

Both of them cock their heads to the man at the door. His smile is wary, eyes tired. He walks toward them with small easy steps. His hands are behind his back.

“What are you doing here, Yixing hyung? Are you picking us up for dinner? We still have fifteen minutes left,” Jongin asks, getting outside the ring. “But I think we’re done for today, hyung. You’re good in one on one combat but you still lack strength in you offenses. Your body must still be weak.”

Jongin looks abashed as he walks, like he is just caught telling a secret he should not tell. He scratches his nape sheepishly as he sits in one of the stools.

“I’m bor… I want to check how Chanyeol is going with his trainings. Tough day for you?”

Chanyeol smiles at him warily, also on his way to find his chair. He has known Yixing for so long and he is not the type to just barge in and have a nice little chitchat. “What brings you here, Yixing?”

“Someone is selling us to the New World.” Yixing says, without hesitation. Without faltering. Yet his firm and determined voice speaks of fear. Chanyeol feels it.

“What?” Jongin chokes on his water, eyes wide with suspicion. “What do you mean someone is selling us?”

“When Sehun and the other Aeries visit the headquarters of General Park, some of the Silvers are already patrolling the area.”

Chanyeol sighs once more, loudly this time, not bothering to hide his irritation at their reasoning. “Ever since the New World announced itself, the Silvers have been patrolling and raiding every single building in the districts. I don’t see a strong connection of your claim to the argument.”

“Sehun arrived and,” Yixing starts and his voice is beyond grim. His attempt to sound strong is futile and Chanyeol sees a part of him crumbling down.

“What happened? They haven’t put the cameras in place?” Jongin eases a little, not quite sensing what is wrong yet. “That’s totally fine to be honest. We could just go back and –”

Chanyeol fears the next words and he unconsciously grips his seat.

“He arrived in a box.”

Chanyeol is already trembling even before his mind could register what was said. It takes even more time for Jongin to comprehend Yixing’s words and he gasps for air once he understood.

“Where’s Lu Han hyung?” Jongin stands up with such force, his stool tumbles down and his water bottle is abandoned on the floor. Chanyeol can see the smoke of fury and hurt in the younger’s eyes. “What happened?”

“Lu Han? What does he have to do with this?” Chanyeol asks, before even thinking.

“We’ve been suspecting him of treachery since –”

“It’s not him,” Yixing utters with finality though his tone is weak and fragile. “I thought it’s him but it’s not. Not until Sehun arrived.”

“How are you so sure? If he could sell us to the New World, then he can also kill his boyfriend!” Jongin sprints outside, tears finding their way out of his eyes.

Chanyeol’s body is still not tuned to the tension that Yixing brings when he announced the things he did. Yet slowly, his body spasms and he grapples again for air that is very much abundant in where he is. So he asks again. For confirmation. “Yixing, what’s happening?”

“I told you yesterday that there is nothing I trust more than the Resistance Order. Because I don’t want to lose my faith, just yet. Now I don’t know,” Yixing wipes his face exasperatedly, running his hands over and over his hair. Ruffling and shaking it to clear his mind.

“Who is it? Who do you think it is?” Chanyeol questions, also standing on his feet though he does not trust his weak knees to hold him for long.

“General Byun Baekhyun.”

“I don’t believe you,” Chanyeol eyes him dangerously. His heart lunges on his throat again making it difficult not only to breathe but also to speak.

“I understand,” Yixing tries to smile at him but it still looked grim. “Have your own investigation. But remember this, those who seek for your allegiance to protect you are your true friends. Those who seek you for the documents you have are not. Be careful. This maybe a war you cannot win alone, Chanyeol.”

 

*

 

It is supposed to be dinner time yet the eight _remaining_ generals gather round not in the cafeteria but in the conference room. Terror is on their faces and the only thing accompanying silence right now is the tension, the wild beatings of their hearts, and the sobs that fail to die at their throats. No one has spoken yet.

The Assembly is split into two and each group is tearing the other with their lethal gazes. Jongin, Baekhyun, and Jongdae against Lu Han, Yixing, and Minseok. Only Joonmyeon and Chanyeol stand on the neutral line.

Lu Han’s face is the most torn and dreadful to look at. His eyes are red from crying, tears willingly fall from his eyes. He seems to be one trigger away from murdering someone. He heaves heavy breaths and his hands are balled into fists, nails biting his palms hard.

 _If Sehun is alive_ , Chanyeol wonders, feeling a part of him tearing into pieces, _which side would he be? Does he know? Does he know who did this to him?_

Chanyeol’s heart stammers on his chest. It is only yesterday since he entered this room and the seven of them are nothing but smile and laughter. He shudders at the thought of what a day can do to them. Brothers that are now denouncing each other.

That is not the worst part, however. Chanyeol feels like he is caught between a tug of war – where the winner is not always in the _right_ _side_ of the grand scheme of things. Once more, he feels trapped and suffocated because he does not know a thing. _Who is the traitor? Whose eyes stream crocodile tears?_

All Chanyeol knows is that the mischievous and witty Sehun is gone. Murdered and tortured at the hands of the Silvers. It is true that Sehun arrived in a box but not all of him made it to the headquarters. Only his head, badly wrapped in a plastic. Face beaten and violet. His jaw is misaligned and two bullets are buried in the pit of his eyes.

Jongin threw up at the sight of his best friend brutally killed while Baekhyun almost lost his consciousness when Lu Han opened the small box. Chanyeol’s head now is nothing but Sehun’s warm smiles, overboard pranks, and wisecracks.

 _How many more? How many more of them should die?_ Chanyeol cries as silent as he could, letting out a small pained sob as his lung constrict.

“Murderers,” Lu Han curses under his breath, still not tearing his deadly gaze away from Baekhyun’s.

“Traitors,” Jongin responds, eyeing him with the same degree of loathe. “How far will you go, Lu Han?” His voice breaks and he heaves a very deep breath.

“Baekhyun was the one holding all the information. Planning all the strategies. And now you blame this on me?” Lu Han replies acidly, full of hatred. “Of all the days you could send the District XVII. You chose this day when the Silvers will be all out on the headquarters of General Park.”

Baekhyun holds Chanyeol’s hand underneath the table and the latter assumes it is for strength. In all honesty, Chanyeol has not made up his mind yet but his instincts are siding with Baekhyun and he does not understand why. He knows full well that without his rational mind, he would not survive this game. That he is walking on thin ice. But he cannot deny the soft tug he feels for Baekhyun. He cannot refute his strong instincts that Baekhyun is on the _right_ side no matter how irrational and unjustifiable.

Surrendering to his own resolve, Chanyeol holds Baekhyun’s hand, sandwiching it between his own hands, hoping that he could ease the rebel the way he does.

“I didn’t do it,” Baekhyun whimpers, not bothering to wipe his tears away. “I will never sell the Resistance Order. I am one of the first members of the third generation. I worked hard for this.”

“It doesn’t matter who got here first,” Lu Han counters, voice deadly and cold.

“Lu Han?” Chanyeol speaks for the first time, also staring at him with the same degree of coldness as he grips Baekhyun’s hand tighter. “Didn’t you say you are losing hope in the Resistance Order and has been wondering if the New World is right all along?”

Chanyeol clearly sees how seven heads turn to his direction with a sharp movement. Yixing looks appalled while Minseok drops his jaw, mouth gaping at what he said, his eyes gazing at Chanyeol then to Lu Han and back again. Joonmyeon glances at him too, brows creasing in dismay and anger.

“According to the Manifesto,” Jongdae butts in, triumphant tone amidst his hoarse voice. “Article 1, Section V, those who express their allegiance to the New World may it be verbal or written and proven by at least one witness, is guilty of treason against the Resistance Order.”

Lu Han flexes, hands ball into fist, wanting to hit the people on the other side of the table. His face burns more in anger. “How dare you accuse me of treason when it is Baekhyun’s plan all along? How can I sell my Sehun for what, a–”

“ENOUGH!” Joonmyeon screams, burying his face in his hands. His voice is trembling too, eyes watering as he witness his brothers. “So we’ve come to this now? Standing against each other?”

“Baekhyun is the –” Lu Han speaks, voice low and deadly. But he is immediately cut off by Joonmyeon.

“Is it true?” Joonmyeon asks. “Did General Lu Han say that?”

Chanyeol opens his mouth to speak when an idea clicks in. “Yes.” His gazes turn colder at Lu Han. “And he was singing a song. If I remember it correctly, the lines go like this: _I hope someday you will join us, and the world will be as one_.”

“Your point is?” Yixing raises his voice, taunting Chanyeol. “We do not ban anyone from singing _any_ song.”

“Isn’t that the goal of the New World?” Chanyeol asks, voice also taunting. And it hurts. It hurts because he feels like he is going against his best friends, these people he has known for years. But he continues, ignoring his thoughts, “One world, one government. Death for those who dissent.”

“Chanyeol, I am reminding you of your status here in the Order,” Yixing warns him and this is the first time he speaks to him like that. Like the whole universe is between them, all intimacy and care gone. Like they were never friends. “You don’t know everything yet. Be careful who you choose as allies.”

Chanyeol sighs inwardly, trying to sound big and strong. “I don’t know many things. That I admit. And I said this once, but I will say it again. Those who write a utopian story ends up publishing a dystopian book. I will be careful in choosing my allies but be careful in choosing your stories.”

“I said that,” Lu Han says, eyeing Baekhyun again. “That I’m losing faith in the Order but it is because of treacherous acts. I never thought someone would make it here and tear us up.”

“We could do an investigation on Lu Han’s case but since he admits to his words, it will not be a necessity anymore. However,” Joonmyeon speaks mechanically. “If General Lu Han can prove his allegations against General Byun Baekhyun, then the two of you will be guilty of treason and will face punishment in accordance with the Red Blood Manifesto.”

Lu Han smirks and raises his hand as if to recite. “General Byun has been withholding necessary information from the Resistance Order. It can be assumed that he is hiding something from the Assembly of Twelve that causes deterrence to our plans and operations. Today is very good example.”

“Article II, Section II states that the Intelligence and Strategy Committee has the power to release and hold documents and information as deemed necessary by the officer in charge,” Baekhyun counters him, voice hoarse. “The only thing I withhold is your access on General Park Chanyeol’s video recordings. I do not deem it necessary for the operations on paper retrieval and Chinese Elites Rescue.”

“And I’ve seen you reading my documents in my own room last night without my permission,” Chanyeol adds.

“I’m afraid that we don’t have much time to prolong this conversation,” Joonmyeon’s voice is lifeless now but his eyes are hurt. “If Sehun’s body made its way here means to say that the New World found out where we are. It is no longer safe for us to remain here. Alert all the Aeries from all the districts for an emergency evacuation. We will be heading to the Southern District. We can camp there for the mean time.

“As for General Lu Han, you are hereby dismissed from your office and will no longer hold any posts from the Order. I will be taking care of your Aeries from now on. You have one hour to pack.”

“You can’t do this,” Lu Han gnarls dangerously.

“As for General Byun Baekhyun, after our transfer and we are settled, an immediate investigation on the information you are holding will be conducted. So we can see if you hold any responsibilities for General Oh Sehun’s death. All orders are final.”

General Kim Joonmyeon stands up, salutes the wall with tears falling from his eyes. He remains like that for a minute, seemingly giving respect to the previous members of the Assembly of Twelve. Soon Jongin, Jongdae, Baekhyun, Chanyeol, and Minseok do the same. They stand up and face the photos of the generals with their arms raised and folded, the tip of their fingers touching their eyebrows. Eyes brimming with tears as they sob silently.

Lu Han immediately leaves, banging the door on his way out. Yixing gives a quick bow before exiting and no one pays them attention.

They have lost another general tonight. Someone’s whose fire was never drowned by the cruel snowfall. Someone who had a smile that speaks of hope and light. Chanyeol’s heaves quick breaths, vision blurred by his tears. Soon, his arm hurt so he just places both his hands on top of his heart as he looks at each of the generals.

 _How many more?_ Chanyeol asks again. _Who can win in this war?_

 

*

 

**_IF LOVE CAN BE BOUGHT_ **

_If love can be bought_

_Many would say they will do much to earn more_

_But in reality,_

_People would be more idle_

 

_Many will content themselves in poverty_

_Because this is not about money_

_Or the things we can buy_

_It’s our inclination to what is good and what is easy_

 

_It’s easier to hate than to love_

_To hold grudges than to forgive_

_Loving is good,_

_But it is never easy._

 

_So if Love can be bought,_

_It will be easier to justify why we can’t buy, why we can’t love_

_If love can be bought,_

_We have more reasons not to buy and not to love_

 

_Reasons not to care_

_Reasons not to be kind_

_Because we can’t buy love_

_Because we don’t have money_

 

_So if love can be bought_

_Maybe it’s the lowest commodity_

_And what a terrible world this could be_

_Things unnecessary are those that are free_

 

_But if love can be bought_

_I hope hate can be sold too_

_And please, let hate_

_Have a much higher price._

~ _General Park, D. VIII_

_Day 29 of the New World_

_The day I saw the real world_

 

The night hours are slow and Chanyeol finds himself reading more of his father’s drabbles to keep his mind at bay. He is grateful to finally have the time to ransack the whole file case and find tore pages of his poetry.

It is a surprise that he could still read and understand the written words. The tears are blurring his vision too much. His lungs never tire to constrict, halting the normalcy in his breathing. There is too much going on. Too much. And it is too much for him to handle alone so he cries again. Not knowing what to do. Too much loss for a twenty four year old guy like him. Are falling bodies not enough? Now, it has to be a head of one of the warmest person he has known.

Chanyeol wants to end this night already yet he dreads the coming of another day and he feels the suffocation of being torn between two choices he does not want.

The paper he holds are soon peppered with splotches of his tears. So he puts it down for fear that it may tear. This is one of the few _tangible_ things his father left him before the untimely death of his family. Because the treasures of General Park are not something to be held by the hand, but to be carried by the heart.

Growing up, Chanyeol is always full of wisdom from his father and he never thought his words would matter this much. _So much_ . _Right now_.

 _“Don’t trust too much, Chanyeol,” his father would always say_ . _“But if you have troubles in mind about whom to give it to, follow your heart.”_

_“Not all people have your best interest in heart. But that should not give you the reason not to be kind to anyone.”_

_“Let your heart be still, not steel.”_

_“They say that your best friends are your worst enemy. I say they are wrong. Your self is the hardest to fight against.”_

Chanyeol is beyond the edge of breaking down so he willingly jumps off the cliff. He welcomes the surge of pain and the waves of desperation and the pressure of another day. He welcomes the pain like his heart is nothing but a soft cushion full of pins and needles. He drowns at the overwhelming sensation of hurt and he does not know what he will become after all this.

His head wants to burst already and he does not even bother to silence himself anymore. He heaves deep breaths loudly as he wails, his hands on his eyes as he curls on the cold floor.

 _It hurts. So much._ And the worst part is that Chanyeol knows he does not have anything to do but to endure every single thing until it is his time. He wants to ask: _of all people_ , _why should he be one of those to live at times like this?_

There is a knock on the door that Chanyeol fails to notice and it denies him the time to compose himself, to build his walls up again, to plaster a smile, and to remove the dread on his face. The moment a pair of arms pulls and cradles him so that he is leaning his head to his chest, Chanyeol knows he cannot negate the fact that Baekhyun sees him again is his most vulnerable state.

“Baek,” Chanyeol croaks, the twist growing stronger in his chest. It takes him all of his strength to hook his arm on the rebel’s shoulder.

“We talked with Joonmyeon,” Baekhyun starts, his hold on Chanyeol tightening. His voice is also hoarse and scratched. “We have to retrieve the papers by tomorrow before it’s too late. The Silvers are so many steps ahead of us. The Aeries won’t be with us because it’s so dangerous. Only the four of us will go.”

“Four?”

“Jongdae, Jongin, Yixing, and me.”

“I’m not included?” Chanyeol asks in between his heavy sobs.

“You’re not yet ready, Yeol.” Baekhyun cups his cheek, trying to wipe the tears on his face. “And I can’t lose you too.”

“I want to be there, Baek. I know where he hid the papers,” Chanyeol begs with a soft voice yet his eyes are still streaming tears. “I can help.”

“Yixing proposes that you come. I said no but I know it is still your decision to make. I want you to be safe, Chanyeol.”

“I want to come. Please let me come.” Chanyeol sits properly, unclasping from their hold so he can look at the rebel straight in the eyes.

“Yeol, please,” Baekhyun sighs deeply, closing his eyes, seemingly halting himself from crying as he massages his temples. The low light of his room casts them a faint beam and the rebel’s face is beyond torn. His nose is red as so as his eyes. His voice is a lot different now because of his clogged nose. Chanyeol fears the look of that face. It speaks of hopelessness. “It’s a suicide mission. If we can’t retrieve it and bring it back to the headquarters, we will bomb the whole building so the documents will be destroyed.”

Chanyeol does not miss the tone that Baekhyun hit and it sends more tears streaming down his face. “You can’t do that. There must be another way.”

Because Baekhyun means to say that they are expecting the worst tomorrow so they will go all out. He means to say that they do not have plans of getting the papers out of the hold of the Silvers. He means to say that they are getting rid of the documents out of the hold of both the Reds and the Silvers by bombing the building.

Chanyeol knows the defences that is built to protect the headquarters. Any attack from the outside will be a futile attempt of burning the building down and a very effective one to alert the Silvers of their presence. Destroying the documents would mean bombing the headquarters from the inside. And from the inside, no one can ever escape on time.

The rebel is silent so Chanyeol takes the liberty to speak again. “I thought we are more than a sacrificial lamb?”

“We have to fight.” A tear fall from the corner of Baekhyun’s eyes. His head is bowed down, unable to look at him. “We are left with no choice.”

Chanyeol grabs Baekhyun’s face and pulls him close slowly. He lets their foreheads touch as they let all the tears out. Their sobs are near at each other’s lips. Baekhyun’s hands are flat on the Chanyeol’s chest. Both are grasping for air and for hope.

No one dares to speak but Chanyeol has been screaming in his head, reciting the line like a prayer. _Let hate have a higher price. Please, let hate have a higher price. Please, let hate have a higher price._

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol breathes in pain.

“Chanyeol, I’m sorry.”

“You can’t do this. You can–”

Baekhyun presses his lips on Chanyeol’s tenderly. To silence him. Because his pleas also make him weak and the rebel cannot afford weakness at times like this.

“If I get to survive tomorrow,” Baekhyun speaks against his lips. “Will you let me be with you?”

“Come back for me, Baek,” Chanyeol snivels. “Please. Come back for me.”

Baekhyun breaks the contact and it is his turn now to look at Chanyeol directly. “If there is any god listening out there, I hope he wills that I come back. But if no one can hear the prayers of our hearts,” Baekhyun tries to smile and it tears Chanyeol more. “I know we can meet again. In a different time where all we know is peace and forgiveness.”

Chanyeol is unable to speak. He buries his face once more in his hands and the next thing he knows is the rebel holding both his wrists, pulling him up. They stand on their feet and they are close. Too close that Chanyeol thinks he can the see glimpses of Baekhyun’s scarred soul. The rebel looks at him straight in the eyes with a strained smile, eyes so puffy and glassy.

“I’m putting my life in your hands, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol faintly whispers, voice so soft and so frail. One more inch and their lips would touch.

“What do you mean?” Baekhyun asks in confusion, sniffing loudly. His hot breath fans Chanyeol’s face. It is an innocent gesture but Chanyeol starts to burn again. And for a moment, he wants to claim him before it is too late. Before this night ends and before the dawn claims the stars. Before this night ends and before another day can claim another life. There are no promises tomorrow.

“I trust you,” Chanyeol plants a swift kiss on Baekhyun’s forehead that lingers longer than necessary. When he breaks the contact, the rebel is flashing one of his sweetest smiles.

“Thank you.”

For the first time, Chanyeol sees Baekhyun’s fragility. Because he sees in the rebel’s eyes the acceptance of the possibilities of tomorrow. He sees the swirling emotions of dread and horror on his face, paling his trembling lips. Chanyeol can hear the rebel’s heart beating so loud like it is the last day that it will beat.

It feels like they are in a roller coaster ride, without their seatbelts on and waiting for their grand downfall. The ride that no one can stop so they hold onto each other for support, for strength, for hope, that somehow, they can get off the ride safely. _Together_.

Baekhyun caresses Chanyeol’s cheeks, still smiling softly and he looks cute and innocent as he crinkle his eyes. And Chanyeol feels no danger at all. It has always been like this with Baekhyun. He is like a sheep. Tamed but trained.

Chanyeol tries to resurface all the things he heard: that the rebel like Baekhyun knows too much flirting that is why he survived this long; that he should suspect Baekhyun of a conspiracy because he was monitored without his consent; that Baekhyun cannot be trusted. But all these are on the back of his mind, their voices fainter than a whisper.

One thing that Chanyeol learns from his examination in the military academy: when you do not know the answer, _trust your instincts_. The first tug of your heart is usually the correct answer. And he is applying that life hack now. But whether or not he will pass, Chanyeol is yet to find out.

Baekhyun places his hands flatly on Chanyeol’s chest and the latter is brought back to the earth. And he sees once more the glinting orbs that spark, just like the first time they met. In the park manor and they are nothing but strangers. ( _Well, maybe Baekhyun is a stranger to him. But definitely, he is not to the rebel._ )

“I am also guilty of murders,” Baekhyun starts, his gaze not wavering amidst his trembling lips and faltering voice. “And there is not a day I don’t mourn their loss. There is not a day that I don’t want to find their family and say sorry.”

“Baek,” Chanyeol cups his face, his thumbs pressing his cheeks.

“We are also guilty of the things we hate.” Baekhyun rests his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder, embracing the taller as he finally permits all his tears to fall. _Again_.

“You didn’t kill Sehun,” Chanyeol speaks as his hands roam on Baekhyun’s back, hushing him. He says it as a statement and not as a question.

“It’s not me. I swear it’s not me. Sehun is my little brother,” Baekhyun whimpers out loud, heaving deep breaths. His grip on Chanyeol’s shirt tightens as he wails. “I don’t know if I can take it anymore of this, Yeol. Every day, I fear that there will be another one important to me who…”

The rebel is not able to finish his sentence because he breaks down midway. Chanyeol can feel Baekhyun’s chest rising and falling hardly as he grapples for air. His lungs also constricting because of the scars that will never heal and the newly inflicted wounds of death, of betrayal, and of war.

Chanyeol does not say anything because there is nothing better to say. Instead, he cries with him silently, his teardrops on Baekhyun’s hair.

They stay like that for a moment. Within the comfort of each other’s arms, afraid to let go and surrender to the breaking of the dawn. They breathe each other’s scent, hoping they could see a glimpse of heaven in this dark times.

Few moments more, Baekhyun untangle himself from Chanyeol’s hold and looks at him straight in the eyes. “I want to survive this, Chanyeol.”

“We will,” Chanyeol tries to smile, sniffing his tears away. “We will survive this.”

Chanyeol, then, sees Baekhyun swallowing a lump in his throat as his gaze travels from his nose to his mouth then the rebel parts his lips. With a quick heartbeat, Baekhyun closes his eyes and tiptoes for a kiss.

 _This is it,_ Chanyeol tells himself. For just one night, he wants to stop thinking of anything and just feel. The pain, the pleasure.

The rebel’s kisses are altogether sweet and warm and wet and soft and loving and passionate and heated. At first, he is just rubbing his lips against Chanyeol’s pout until he leans in more and starts nibbling. Using his lips and teeth with much pressure that sends Chanyeol’s soul on fire.

Their noses graze, eye lashes tickling each other’s face. Baekhyun cushions Chanyeol’s lower lip gently and sweetly sucking. Leaving smudges of drool around his mouth. His hands travels up and down Chanyeol’s shoulder.

As usual, Chanyeol surrenders to the overwhelming sensation: the electricity travelling in his veins; the warmth engulfing his skin; and the pressure gathering in his groin. It does not take him a moment longer to hold Baekhyun’s waist, groping it like a rope as he walks on a thin ice, afraid to stumble down. His own hands travel up and down, sliding and feeling the ridges of Baekhyun’s ribs.

Chanyeol slowly turns aggressive too. Leaning more to deepen the kiss; the sweet and soft grazing of their lips levelling up in intensity. More demanding, more claiming. He presses his tongue hard on the corners of Baekhyun’s mouth, asking for entrance which the rebel willingly allows. His tongue savours the depth of Baekhyun’s hot mouth, counting his teeth and mixing their spits.

The rebel’s moans resound in his throat and Chanyeol swallows all of the noise hungrily. His hands become more firm and more determined; groping and touching in the way he knows sensual. Itching to hear Baekhyun whimper under his touch again, Chanyeol’s hands slide down to the hem of his shirt and go underneath. He kneads the soft skin of his side, pinching and teasing until his fingers slip on the waistband and go deeper down until he touches the rebel’s tight behind, under the fabric of his pants.

Sure enough, Baekhyun resonates another delicious moan that Chanyeol swallows on his mouth. The latter wants more and more and more of him but Baekhyun’s fingers are on their way for revenge. The rebel’s hands slither its way under his pants down to Chanyeol’s front, feeling the hairs that tickle his hands until he finds his length and he palms it and Chanyeol has to break their kiss to gasp loudly. He inches his front closely to the rebel, surrendering to his touch.

“Baek,” he breathes sensually.

Chanyeol does not know what happens really when two people make love – _or can he even call this ‘love’?_ Because all he has ever done is to savour a girl’s mouth then feast over bosom. And usually, he is the one sending electric shocks on the girl’s body.

This time is different. He is the one being touched the electricity is beyond overwhelming. He moans out loud, eyes lidded and dark as Baekhyun pleasure him again, palming and stroking within the space constraint of his pants.

“Take it off,” Chanyeol orders weakly as he places both his hands on Baekhyun’s shoulder to steady himself. His eyes are dark and luscious and heavy, teasing and taunting and challenging and surrendering.

Baekhyun willingly obliges but he takes his time, wanting to see him anticipate and yearn for his touch. With one teasing gesture, the rebel presses the tip of his length and rubs it over and over again until Chanyeol almost wants to lie down to give him a better access before Baekhyun gets his hands out of his pants.

He leads him on the bed and pushes him down until the he is sitting. “Lay down.”

Chanyeol does as he is told but his feet remain planted on the floor, his upper body laying flatly on the mattress. His hands are thrown over his head, lips parted, breaths shallow.

Baekhyun takes his time in unbuttoning his pants and peeling it off his legs. The moment his underwear are on his ankles, Chanyeol’s length stands proudly, pinkish and long and hard. The ebony hair around are tamed, straight, and soft.

Baekhyun kneels down on the floor, spreading his legs so he can settle comfortably in between. He breathes deeply at the sight of his length and of the hole that seems to wink at him, peach in color and so soft and tender to touch. He hears Baekhyun’s heavy breaths and it makes him lightheaded.

Baekhyun senses his impatience so he inches closer and smells his groin, letting the hair tickle his nostrils. Then he holds his length and kisses the tip sweetly and gently for a few times, admiring the sight of his pale white skin and the totality of Chanyeol’s arousal. He feels shudders violently and deliciously under the rebel’s touches.

“Baaaek,” Chanyeol groans long in anticipation, moving his hips upward as his length twitches at Baekhyun’s lips. A white sticky fluid making its way out of the slit. “Touch it.”

The rebel does as he is told. Soon, he touches his length, not with his hands, but with his lips and his tongue, slowly savouring the raw flesh in his mouth. Tasting the flavours of Chanyeol with his tongue lapping and his teeth grazing. He tastes salty and sweet and a little sour at the same time. His inexperienced tongue plays with the pulsating flesh, putting pressure with such dexterity on the tip, tasting the Chanyeol’s spit.

Then Baekhyun’s hands find their way on Chanyeol’s ankles and hoists them up so that his feet are stepping on the edge of the bed, further splitting him apart as he eats and sucks. He can feel his own length springing up, also arousing himself at the sight and sound of Park Chanyeol.

He twists beneath the rebl, his legs closing, practically sandwiching Baekhyun’s head to cage him and bury himself more. Then he raises his hips up and down, slithering his way in and out of the rebel’s beautiful mouth as he groans breathlessly with no shame, panting and squirming on the sheets.

Soon enough, the pressure is too much for Chanyeol to handle and Baekhyun feels the hot liquid oozing on the inside of his cheeks and on the roof of his mouth, some of the spit leaking on the corners of his lips. Chanyeol tenses, the muscles in his legs contracting hard. When Baekhyun looks up, his mouth is a perfect O and his lids are shut close, his eyes rolling at the back of his head. His back is arched, his hands thrown over his head, clenching the sheets as he climaxes and explodes.

Just like what the rebel did to him earlier, he prolongs the pleasure that even though his length goes limp on his mouth, he continues to savour him. Gingerly biting and grazing it up and down as his tongue embraces the flesh with much pressure and warmth. Chanyeol can feel himself leaking more and staining his mouth.

Chanyeol’s trembling fingers tug Baekhyun’s lock for him to stop. His heavy breaths are loud, irregular, and shallow. Feeling all the energy leaving his spent body. And it takes the rebel a moment before he complies. After releasing Chanyeol’s length on the confines of his mouth, he hovers over him, pinning him down.

“My turn,” Baekhyun announces, sitting on Chanyeol’s lap. Wasting no time, his hands grab the hem of Chanyeol’s shirt, taking it off, undressing him for the second time of the day. And for a moment, Baekhyun stays still, though his hands are sprawled on Chanyeol’s chest, feeling his heated skin. He leans down and showers him with soft and sweet kisses, starting from his neck. He licks at the pulse points before gently sucking them with his soft lips. Then he feats over the bass of his throat, doing the same thing over and over again.

The rebel’s hands never rest, roaming around Chanyeol’s body, gripping, scratching, and pressing hard. Chanyeol’s mind is swirling again and he does not know whether he will survive another round. But he keeps still as Baekhyun continues this searing pleasure.

“Claim me,” he whispers to Baekhyun as he bites his lips. The pressure is once more gathering around his groin.

Baekhyun stands up hastily and undoes the buttons of his polo then of his pants. He quickly peels off every clothing that could separate them from one another while Chanyeol climbs up the bed, dragging his naked body so his legs are also lying flat on the mattress.

It is fortunate for Chanyeol to open his eyes, though it takes him every fiber of strength to do so because when he does, he sees Baekhyun’s glorious body. Toned muscles are outlining his frame, covered by his smooth and pale skin. Chanyeol’s gaze drops down from his broad shoulders, to his hard chest, then down to his length, long and hard.

Baekhyun climbs on the bed again and hovers over Chanyeol. The rebel’s hands are on the either side of his head. “Inhale slowly, Yeol,” he says, panting, as he parts his legs once more with his knees and positions himself above Chanyeol’s entrance.

Chanyeol hooks an arm on the rebel’s shoulder while his other hand grips his hair. He spreads his legs more, folding his knees and stepping on the mattress to raise his hips higher to give Baekhyun a better access.

Soon enough, both of them are trembling as Baekhyun dips himself slowly, the tip making its way to his rim. Their gasps and moans and whimpers chorus as the rebel buries himself more.

Chanyeol feels the burning sensation and he feels like his skin is being cut open as Baekhyun fights his way on the hole that is used to getting things out and not letting things in. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is gaping open, arching his back lovingly to fit to Baekhyun’s frame. His hold on the rebel’s body tightens as his muscles start to spasm, twisting both in pleasure and pain.

“You okay there, Yeol?” Baekhyun manages a breathy laugh. He stays still after he made a successful entry. He rests his face on the crook of Chanyeol’s neck, both of them panting at their searing skins.

Chanyeol croaks huskily in reply and he secures the rebel on his hold. His hands traversing his back, from his shoulder blades down to his perky rear. “You feel so good, Baek.”

“First time?”

“Yeah, first time. You? I bet you have done this so many times,” Chanyeol teases him, pinching his ass cheeks hard before grazing his hole with his forefinger. He feels Baekhyun shivering over him.

“No. First time too. My heart is glad that I am able to this with you.” Baekhyun kisses his neck passionately before he gyrates his hips and scratching Chanyeol’s wall.

Once more, they are nothing but a moaning mess. Chanyeol’s voice is two octaves lower that his normal while Baekhyun is knocked out of breath. It does not take another moment for the rebel to pull out his length only to slam down back again, sending Chanyeol delicious sparks peppered with the pain of burning. Both of them feel hot, patches of sweat beads gathering on their skin.

“Ahhh, Baek!” Chanyeol scratches his back.

Baekhyun does it over and over and over again until Chanyeol’s length stands up again, the reddened tip rubbing the rebel’s belly button as he drops himself with force.

“I think I’m near,” Baekhyun pants as he works more for pleasure. Swirling and sashaying his hips until the bed creaks. His hand travels down again to hold Chanyeol’s heavy cock, already swelling and he works _with_ it too, pressing the slit and spreading another wave of cum.

“Baaekhyun!” Chanyeol explodes once more on his hand and his body spasms. For a moment, he sees nothing but white and he hears nothing but the wild beatings of their hearts as Baekhyun thrusts at him erratically, finding his own release.

And when the rebel does, he literally screams a voiceless scream, reaching for his high before falling down again with ghosts of ecstasy on their searing skins then burying his face on Chanyeol’s neck.

For a long moment, no one moves as they grasp for air to bring their breathing back at a normal pace. Baekhyun is still inside Chanyeol and the latter feels the warm spittle of the rebel leaking.

“This is the first time I felt something so strong after four years,” Baekhyun says, sounding exhausted but the big smile on his face tells him that he is more than fine at the moment.

Baekhyun pulls out and they both wince at the grazing of their skins. The rebel settles beside him, laying on his side, an arm draping over Chanyeol’s torso. The latter sits up to reach for the thick covers and tuck them both in before sneaking an arm under Baekhyun and holds him close. He calms his own body as intoxicates his senses with the rebel’s scent.

Baekhyun’s head pillows his arm and inches closer. His fingers draw light patterns on Chanyeol’s chest. “I’m scared,” he whispers, his lips moving against Chanyeol’s skin. “What if I don’t make it tomorrow?”

“We will survive tomorrow, Baek.” Chanyeol kisses his hair and he hopes the rebel can feel the overflowing hope and _plea_ behind his words.

“Did you know? My dad and General Park were really close?”

“What?” Chanyeol flinches, shocked very evident on his face. “They know each other?”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun tightens his embrace.

“How come we never met?”

“I always see you, though. And you’re always with a girl.” Chanyeol can feel Baekhyun’s pout.

Chanyeol chuckles lightly, combing Baekhyun’s hair with his fingers. “Is this the part where you tell me you’ve been crushing on me since –”

“Stop it!” Baekhyun grunts in annoyance and pokes his side. Then his voice turns to a whiny yet sweet tone. “Though we talked once. I’m betting you don’t remember it.”

“When was it?” Chanyeol asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he tries to remember. He searches for all the parties he attended in his mind and all the meetings he has been but no image of Baekhyun appeared.

“You were drunk,” Baekhyun fortunately supplies, sounding nostalgic. “I found you on the comfort room and you were praying.” He chuckles lightly.

“Praying?”

Baekhyun laughs more, squirming in Chanyeol’s hold. “You were kneeling in front of the toilet bowl in your black tux.”

“When the fuck was this?” Chanyeol groans, feeling embarrassed and it does not help that Baekhyun looks up to him and sees his flustered cheeks.

“I was following you around. It was during your father’s celebration for his promotion,” Baekhyun explains, a teasing glint shining in his eyes. “Six years ago? You were with a girl and you two went to the veranda. Though I don’t mean to eavesdrop –”

“But you still did,” Chanyeol cuts off.

“Sssh! I’m not done yet,” Baekhyun counters impishly. “Well, you were giving her something. Like a notebook whatever that is…”

“I did that for Rośe. But she broke up with me that night, so –”

“So you got drunk and I found you on the toilet after some hours. I don’t have the heart to leave you there so I carried you.”

“And I’m betting you enjoyed that night. Seeing me like that. I appreciate it though.”

“Don’t be too full of yourself, Yeol. I had someone waiting for me,” Baekhyun says, pouting his lips and Chanyeol does not know if that is true. “Anyway, I asked what room should I bring you to and well, you told me where your room was. You were freaking heavy to be honest, I wish I could just shoot you right then and there!”

Chanyeol laughs, heart feeling lighter. It so wonderful to talk about mundane things for once. To feel and live like normal people under a normal day. To act like a couple in one of the clichés ever written. To talk like tomorrow will come like usual and will pass by as usual.

“You could’ve asked for some assistance but you didn’t. What should I think about it?” Chanyeol teases, jiggling his eyebrows, trying to turn the tables around and make Baekhyun feel embarrassed instead.

“For your information, I am an empowered guy who doesn’t ask for help if I can do it myself.”

“There we have it!” Chanyeol exclaims with a tone of finality. “You wanted to do it, too.”

“I said I _can_ do it, not I _want_ to do it. There’s a difference, General Park!”

“Come on, Baek! We just had two rounds and you wanted another again?” Chanyeol sighs, sounding exasperated.

“What?”

“You know your punishment for calling me General, right? We’re just…”

“Pervert!” Baekhyun slaps Chanyeol’s side but it just sends the latter bursting in wild laughter. His deep voice booming in the room.

Chanyeol’s hand cups Baekhyun’s face and wills him to look up and when the rebel does, he plants a chaste kiss on his lips. They break the contact with big smiles on their faces.

“You know,” Chanyeol speaks, grabbing Baekhyun’s hand and placing it above his heart. “I have never felt such genuine care from those girls I dated. I mean, they are all there with me during the fun times but not really when I want to get sentimental about my family and work. At night, I would always feel alone.”

“I know,” Baekhyun replies. “There are nights when I can’t sleep so I just monitor you. Most of those nights, you were just drinking and crying to yourself. Have you really been that sad, Yeol?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry if life has always been hard for all of us. But guess what, there are happy things along the way.”

“To be honest,” Chanyeol chortles. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you. Even Yixing said that they’re waiting for someone to end your winter season.”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun admits quietly, tone tranquil. “Things have been hard but I’m happy you’re finally here, right? Happy things along the way. At least I’m not alone anymore, and I hope you feel the same thing.”

Chanyeol pecks Baekhyun’s hair again. “Truth be told, Baekhyun. I don’t even know why but I trust you. More than the others here. I know I should feel scared that I can’t find a rational reason to trust you but when I’m with you, I feel safe.”

“I know I have a lot to prove to you yet. There are so many things I want to tell you, Chanyeol. The moment you arrived here. But I feel like time is denying me the chance.”

“Promise me, you will come back tomorrow so you could tell me everything you want to. I’ll listen.”

“I promise. Wait for me, Chanyeol.”

No one speaks for a moment. And for the first time in that day, no one thinks of tomorrow. Chanyeol’s mind is faraway. Really far that he starts to dream a life with Baekhyun. Kids and home and breakfast and cuddles. He pulls Baekhyun closer to him, their legs intertwining. He imagines what kind of life he would have with Byun Baekhyun.

Chanyeol breaks the silence with his question. “So it has been six years?”

“Six years what?”

“Six years since you’ve known me.”

“Yeah. Almost six years of waiting for you. And I don’t know if this is right to say, but I’ve come to like you over those years that I see you only from a monitor.”

Chanyeol smiles at him even though the rebel could not see. He starts to yawn and sleep is slowly creeping in his veins. In that moment, dread comes again because tomorrow is few hours away. But even before his heart could muster the energy to be anxious, Baekhyun’s sweet voice resonates in the room.

_And I'd give up forever to touch you_

_'Cause I know that you feel me somehow_

_You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be_

_And I don't want to go home right now_

 

_And all I can taste is this moment_

_And all I can breathe is your life_

_And sooner or later it's over_

_I just don't wanna miss you tonight_

 

_And I don't want the world to see me_

_'Cause I don't think that they'd understand_

_When everything's meant to be broken_

_I just want you to know who I am_

“We’ll have time to know more about each other, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol utters, almost close to slumber. “Let’s just enjoy what we have now.”

Baekhyun looks at to him and sees Chanyeol closing his eyes. It is the most peaceful thing the rebel has seen in the whole time he has been fighting with the rebel and with himself. It is too late to realize that some tears escaped his eyes and he heaves deeply. “When tomorrow comes, I hope you can forgive me Chanyeol.”

The rebel does not know whether the other heard his words but he could only hope and pray for the battles that will come after this very moment. Sleep has not found him yet so he continues serenading the man before him with much sincerity that Chanyeol fails to hear.

_And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming_

_Or the moment of truth in your lies_

_When everything feels like the movies_

_You bleed just to know you're alive_

 

1 / [2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878642/chapters/31930335)


	2. Chapter 2

[1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878642/chapters/31930317) / 2

 

***

 

**THE WAR**

The day has come and Chanyeol awakes with his body trembling. He reaches for _him_ on the other side of the bed but it is empty and dead cold. His gaze instinctively flies to the window. It is dark that Chanyeol doubts the sun has risen already.

 _So where would Baekhyun go?_ Chanyeol asks mentally, heart lurching in his throat. Because the rebel could not possibly leave yet. Baekhyun could not possibly leave without waking him up. As much as he wants to bury the thoughts of meeting the rebel for the _last time_ , he cannot shake the idea that _anything can happen today_.

He stands up hastily to pick up his discarded clothes last night. Chanyeol is surprised that they have survived the night with no clothes on and just a thick duvet covering their skins, then relying to each other for warmth. And now that Baekhyun is gone, it is not surprising that Chanyeol would shiver this much. Both in coldness and in fear. Chanyeol is flabbergasted because he cannot find his clothes and the icy knives stabbing his veins are getting unbearable. But when he walks to the side of the bed to turn his lamp on, his eyes settle on the small digital clock.

_9:00 AM_

Chanyeol almost wants to cry, feeling alone and abandoned. _So, Baekhyun has left already_ . _I didn’t even get to say goodbye._ His heart is pumping loud and wild and scared again. The thick heavy clouds blocking the sunlight does not help in uplifting his spirits up. _Anything could go wrong today_.

Almost on the verge of breaking down again because of fear, Chanyeol calms himself by reciting Baekhyun’s words like a mantra. _Wait for me, Chanyeol. Wait for me, Chanyeol. Wait for me, Chanyeol._

Then he sees more. On the bedside table is a set of socks, pants, white t-shirt, and thick jacket, neatly folded. On top of it is a note, a thick note looking like a compilation of parchment. And it is purely handwritten note from Byun Baekhyun and it says:

_Last night is one of my most amazing days because you finally come to life. Though I have been with you for the past two days and even interacted with you three weeks ago (remember the party?), it was just last night that it dawned on me that you are already here now. And I am determined to keep you. Keep you safe. Keep you for me._

_I am afraid that this day has come but I know I could not move forward to another day without overcoming this hurdle. If ever fate has not sided with us and I am not able to keep my promise, everything you need to know, everything I want to tell you is here. But read this only when I don’t get back. Because when I do, I promise to tell them myself._

_Though I understand that you might hate me for my scars, I hope you will not walk away from me. Waiting for you for four years is too much already._

_My intentions to you are true, General Park Chanyeol._

_Writing with my heart,_

_Byun Baekhyun_

Chanyeol finds himself smiling and he brings the paper close to his heart, hugging it like he has just received his favourite toy when he was a kid. He does not know that the rebel with the worst temper could actually blow something like this, so romantic and _genuine_ and sweet and so heavy and _soft_ at the same time. It feels so mundane again. Like Baekhyun is just a lover who travels far away where days will stretch without him going home but there is an assurance of him _returning back_. Chanyeol deeply appreciates it, his heart warming once more.

 _I will do Baekhyun’s promise_ , his mind says. So after dressing up, he carefully placed the parchment on the inside pocket of his jacket. Within an instant, his body feels a new surge of hope even though his throbbing heart reminds him of _reality_ – telling him to expect the worse.

_Baekhyun will return._

Chanyeol steps out for his room, not having an exact destination in mind. He cannot go to Baekhyun nor Yixing nor Jongdae because they are not here. He wishes there is a way of communication with them so he would know the status of the operation. He wishes there is a chance that he could be with them so he could help.

Because just like Baekhyun, he also has a lot to do to prove that he is trustworthy. Both should work their ways if… _if Chanyeol_ _thinks_ _correctly of what Baekhyun means_ …

He finds himself walking to Lu Han’s room, hoping he is still there though he was already sacked last night. There is a soft tug in his heart that tells them to talk. Chanyeol has a bad feeling about him being on the other side of the war though he still believes that his best friend cannot sell them to the Silvers. That his outbursts stem from his exhaustion and desperation because of his family being held hostage and Sehun being… with _him gone_.

Though it is clear that Chanyeol chose Baekhyun last night by turning against his best friends, he deems that Lu Han needs to understand. Because after all, they are friends – _best friends_. And he could only hope that Lu Han is still willing to listen.

Chanyeol finds it stupid to knock so when he arrives in front of the room, he twists the knob slowly, checking and testing. When it turns freely, his heart drops. _Lu Han must’ve left already._ However, he accidently pushes the door and it swings a little and he sees Lu Han pacing back and forth in his room through the small gap and Chanyeol flinches in shock. And though Lu Han’s back is facing him, Chanyeol can clearly hear his words.

“Follow them there but don’t attack just yet. Let them return. We still have things to do here. Yes. Yes. Exactly. Do as you’re told. Alright. Update me.”

Chanyeol sees Lu Han throwing his phone on the bed and running his fingers exasperatedly through his hair. _It is impossible that he is talking to the Silvers, right?_ With the question in mind, he knocks twice before swinging the door more open and steps inside.

“Lu Han,” he greets softly. He does not know if he is successful in masking away the fear in his stone.

“Chanyeol,” Lu Han responds, eyes wide in shock at his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Chanyeol throws it back but seeing that Lu Han winces at the words, he changes his question. “Who are you talking to?”

“Aeries,” Lu Han answers quickly. _A little too quickly_. “Such a wrong move for the five of them to go alone. It’s so dangerous.”

Chanyeol’s brows furrow. “Aeries? I thought they are on their way to the South?”

“The generals don’t know I sent some of them for back up.” Lu Han paces back and forth again, sounding anxious. “Are they really foolish to bomb the building on their own? Silvers are too strong. They might get killed without even making it inside!”

Chanyeol leans back a little, straightening his back to hide the tension in his body. Because in that moment, he realizes what Lu Han meant when he implied that the rebels have this overblown sense of self-importance. They act impulsively without calculating the risks.

“I told you the rebels don’t work the way we do,” Lu Han speaks again, mirroring Chanyeol’s thoughts. He stands in front of him and looking at him deep in the eyes. “But I am still willing to help despite their flawed ways.”

Chanyeol hears the sincerity in his voice, he sees the pain in his eyes. “Lu Han,” he sighs, because he did not come to him for this conversation.

“There is something we are meaning to tell you, Chanyeol. Yixing and I. Since that day Baekhyun acts suspiciously around you,” Lu Han’s tone switches and his eyes start to blink tears and Chanyeol fails to comprehend.

All he knows that his look screams dread – something that can turn his world upside down if spoken. Chanyeol shudders and he almost fails to hide it from his best friend. “If this is about Baekhyun selling us to the Sil –”

“Listen,” Lu Han cuts him off, urgency and warning are laced with his words. “Have you read the documents your father asked you to keep?”

“They are safe in Baekhyun’s files. I have forwarded them after our first meeting.”

“Have your read them?” Lu Han repeats. And it is as if he is holding his patience so he could explain a seemingly difficult concept to a kid.

“Not yet.”

“Chanyeol, your family…” Lu Han starts, he bites his lip to hide the trembling but his voice gives him a way.

Chanyeol cannot quite understand yet where Lu Han is trying to be so he does not speak. Though he cannot deny that his heart slams wildly in his chest. He furrows his eyebrows in anticipation as he exhales a deep breath.

“It wasn’t the Silvers,” Lu Han speaks, his tone soft as a feather but it carries more weight. It feels heavier than what Chanyeol can carry. “It was Byun Baekhyun who killed General Park.”

It is a surprise that Chanyeol lets out a disbelieving scoff. “You’re kidding, right?” And he laments his own question because he does not need to hear him say it twice. Once is painful enough. Without his command, tears start gathering on his lids. So he exhales again, closing his eyes. The day is just starting and Chanyeol wants to end it already.

“Yixing and I know that General Park is part of the Order. That day we were bombed, we are the one taking offenses against the jets the Silvers sent. It told him – _Baekhyun_ not to aim for PC 6104 chopper because I know…” Lu Han breaks down, sitting on the edge of his bed, crouching low and burying his face on his hands. “I’m sorry Chanyeol because I can’t… I didn’t do anything.”

Chanyeol is unconscious of the next things his body does. Tears that well on his lids finally fall. His trembling hands fly to his mouth and to his heart. He steps back until he hits the door. Then his mind flashes the images of falling bodies again, burning and seemingly thrown out of heaven. “It’s… not… It’s not true.”

“Baekhyun doesn’t easily trust someone. We all know that. Haven’t you asked yourself yet why he suddenly becomes like that to you? His words, his sweet… sweet nothings.

“Chanyeol, please. Baekhyun is selling us to the New World! He is the traitor here. He didn’t bring you with them because you’ll just be a burden. Did you know why they didn’t bring the Aeries? It was Baekhyun who told them not to. He can’t allow us to have reinforcement because he has another motive.”

Chanyeol does not want to yet his mind supports Lu Han as he remembers all the things Baekhyun said and done to him. _With him_. He remembers Lu Han telling him not to trust the rebel; Yixing stating that it is Baekhyun who is selling him to the New World; His best friends protecting him.

“Baekhyun killed my Sehun,” Chanyeol hears him say in between his painful sobs.

Yixing words resonate in his core and it sends painful shivers down his spine. He can feel the coldness creeping in his veins, freezing his body and the fire that he desperately clings onto. _Those who seek for your allegiance to protect you are your true friends._

“Chanyeol,” Lu Han stands up, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “I only have you and Yixing. I can’t lose you too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Chanyeol whispers, a lump caught in his throat. He wants to scream, he wants to scratch and cut himself so the pain will be redirected to a more tangible feeling. Because bleeding outside is more bearable than bleeding inside – where no one would see, where no one would understand _even Chanyeol himself_. He feels trapped, suffocated and there is no door for air to come inside. No help to aid him from drowning in his own thoughts and pain. But there is no time. No time to inflict physical pain. So with another great surge of pain, he remains still. Still like steel.

“We were still monitoring Baekhyun. And Chanyeol,” Lu Han sobs. “Your family just died. General Park just…”

Chanyeol understands. Even in the insufficiency of words. Lu Han thinks he cannot take another tragedy so they keep in to themselves. The way they did about the Resistance Order. But Chanyeol would very much appreciate it if he had known. If he had known in the first place: that his father is part of the order; that Kyungsoo did not give them the list; that Baekhyun killed his family. He would have done so much if he had known.

“You see,” Chanyeol croaks and he hopes Lu Han can understand his words despite his wailing. “The things you do to me… to protect me only shatter me more. Had you told me all this, life will be so much easier for me.” He pushes Lu Han away, surprised that he still have enough energy left.

Chanyeol can feel it. The fire he has been keeping is slowly dying as the cold from the snowfall and from the betrayal seep through his vein. The black smoke of the dying flames reflect in his eyes, ebbing away hope and trust. The same way Baekhyun’s smiles and laugh and touches and kisses ebb away from his mind, from his heart.

“Murderer,” Chanyeol curses. His tears stop falling, maybe because his eyes are tired. He grabs the knob and twists it a little violently and soon enough, his feet take him to his room.

Maybe it is really a roller coaster ride. Baekhyun is with him through the downfall. Only, it is too late to notice that the rebel had stabbed him in the back. _But it felt so real_ , Chanyeol’s other side reasons. _Baekhyun felt so genuine and real_ . _He felt safe with him_.

Chanyeol rewinds everything that has happened between the two of them. All the words that was said and it only strengthens the notions of his best friends. Baekhyun monitored him because the rebel said he was protecting him but in reality, he needs access to what he wants. Baekhyun suddenly being sweet to him despite his worst temper. Baekhyun trusting him easily. Baekhyun trying to gain his trust by indirectly avoiding his questions, by his sweet words, and by pleasuring him to avoid the topic.

It is only now that Chanyeol understands Baekhyun’s undertones whenever he speaks and it hurt him so much. It embarrassed him so much because he let Baekhyun in without any second thoughts, without further questions. It hurt and embarrassed him so much because he told the rebel that he is putting his life in his hands. How stupid can he actually be?

And it is all for the documents! The documents that each side are racing for.

Chanyeol paces back and forth in his room, thinking hard. At the back of his mind, he does not care anymore whether Baekhyun makes it alive or not. He deserves whatever will happen to him. But also, he wants to see the rebel for one last time to tell him that he knows already. To tell him that he is nothing more but a liar, a traitor and a murderer who does not deserve to see the light of another day.

It is foolishness to trust in his instincts. Because it shouts a false comfort and a false sense of security. Chanyeol forgets that all life hacks are not applicable in all scenarios and he just put himself in a trap. Baekhyun is the real beast and Lu Han is nothing more but another hunter lost in the wild.

As for Chanyeol, he is someone who knows nothing of the world and full of curiosity and thirst to seek for something – _someone_ who can give assurance that he is fine. Baekhyun did just that, trapping him in his web so he could feast over him once he returns.

Then an alarm takes Chanyeol away from his thoughts. His heart jumps again at the sudden noise and it takes a moment for his mind to process that they could be under attack. Hastily, he walks to his bedside table and retrieves the gun. He feels the adrenaline rush in his veins once more but even that does not make him feel alive.

 _It is too much. Just too much._ Yet _this much_ is not enough to finally numb him from all the pain.

He is about to go to the door when it swings open and… Chanyeol holds his breath, his heart surfacing the hurt. Like a spark wanting to blaze again amidst its dying embers. Baekhyun walks in, panting. His signature soft smile is on his face and his eyes are warm and _happy_.

“Chanyeol,” his voice is sweet – just as always, as he walks to him and enclosing him in his arms. “We made it. The papers are on my office now. We made it!”

Chanyeol wants to kill himself because one moment, he turns icy and deadly, and now he melts again. Noticing every detail on Baekhyun’s gestures. Though he reasons this is the last time he will be a fool. The last time that he would feel Baekhyun’s embrace that is nothing but soft and warm and delicate and _safe_.

After that, Chanyeol has to let go. He has to. He pushes the rebel away softly as he struggles to gather his strength so he could look at him straight in the eyes. “Murderer,” he whispers.

“What?” Baekhyun gapes at him.

Chanyeol sees the rebel’s face. Unscratched. There are no wounds visible in any part of his body. No signs of hurt or encounter. Which is impossible, knowing how cruel and violent the New World can be. _He really is the traitor._

“Liar,” Chanyeol speaks again, eyeing him straight. His mouth pressed into a thin line.

“What are you saying, Yeol?”

“You killed my parents.”

At that, Baekhyun’s eyes wide in shock, stepping back a little farther away from Chanyeol. His lips tremble and his hands clutch the hem of his shirt. “Yeol,”

“You killed my family. Now you have the documents. What do you want more from me?” Chanyeol asks, voice low and deadly and cold – like the snowfall outside. Full of warnings and threats. His gun is still in his hand, one wrong move and Chanyeol is determined to do it. The way the rebel did with no hesitation in his basement the first time they met.

Baekhyun’s eyes are fragile and afraid, his voice faltering in volume. “Who told you that?”

“I don’t think that’s the most appropriate question to ask. And you don’t deserve an answer from me, murderer.”

“Chanyeol, listen,” Baekhyun takes a small step toward him but it is Chanyeol’s turn to step back. Chanyeol sees the pain in his eyes at the gesture but makes no way to show the rebel that he is hurting too. Because it is also foolishness to show him his vulnerability for the third time.

“Speak,” Chanyeol orders, readying the gun in his hand, his finger circling around the trigger.

“I didn’t know that your family is in that…”

Chanyeol cannot take any more of his lies so he screams. “Liar! Why should I believe you?” And it sends Baekhyun crying, tear by tear in his pretty face.

“Believe me, Yeol. I didn’t know,” Baekhyun heaves a deep sigh to speak clearly. For Chanyeol to understand. “I want to tell you the first time you arrived here. But…”

“Is that the reason you asked me what will I do if I found out who killed my family?” Chanyeol’s tone gets more acidic and loathsome. “And you mocked me that night! Because I said I will not… I will not do the same thing. Can I change answer now?”

Baekhyun closes his eyes, tears streaming his face. The knots in Chanyeol’s heart grow and the pain is stronger than ever. “Do it,” the rebel whispers. “I deserve it.”

“Do you know the worst part, Baek?” Chanyeol sobs again and he wants to kill himself for being so weak. So weak when it comes to Baekhyun because he feels his pain and Chanyeol is in the middle of the war between trusting Baekhyun and trusting the evidences slapped in his face.

_Is this what it means when you fight against yourself?_

But there is no time for those thoughts now so Chanyeol speaks again, unconsciously making a decision. “I trusted you. I… How could you do this?”

“I never meant that to happen. I am sorry, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun falls, kneeling in front of him.

Chanyeol has to be strong. He has to be or else, he will end this already and _forgive_ Baekhyun and hug him tight. But he holds himself and it takes him a great energy to do so. “You never meant to sell us to the New World, is that it?”

“I’m not a traitor,” Baekhyun replies weakly, still answering despite the fact that Chanyeol will not accept his words.

“Still denying it, aren’t you? Lu Han is right. I should have never trusted you. Until up to this point, everything you told me is a lie!” Chanyeol spits, starting to aim his gun at the man kneeling in front of him.

Baekhyun looks up, eyes red and swelling. His gaze does not falter even at the sight of Chanyeol readying himself to shoot. Instead, he smiles and little does he know that it crumbles down the doubt clouding Chanyeol’s head.

“I love you, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol wants to believe it. _He believes it_ but he huffs, mocking the rebel. “Love? What do you know about love?”

But Baekhyun does not respond, his eyes continue to stream tears yet his face displays the same soft smile. Of guilt, of acceptance, of remorse. _What a great actor he is_ , his mind thinks yet his heart tugs at him, feeling otherwise.

So Chanyeol speaks again, “How can I love the one who killed my family?”

Silence billow over them as Chanyeol sees Baekhyun wincing and shivering at his words through the rebel’s eyes. It hurts Baekhyun. Chanyeol knows it, because his own words hurt him too. But what can he do? Baekhyun killed his family and he hid it and–

“All I know is that I love the son of the one who killed mine.”

Chanyeol’s vision blurs and his thoughts swirl, tears falling down once more even before his mind comprehends Baekhyun’s words.

_I lost my family in a fire. It was under a general’s orders because my family refused to be marked._

Then Chanyeol kneels too, his knees too weak to support him. Words heavy in his shoulders. He drops his gun as he buries his face in his hand and wails. Not bothering to muffle the sound, not bothering to hide the pain. He wants to go to Baekhyun so he could hold him and make everything disappear. But his mind tells him it is a dangerous thing to do. He wants to believe Baekhyun’s words because even until now, he can feel his genuineness but his mind tells him that he is nothing but a liar. He wants to hold Baekhyun because both of them are hurting but his mind tells him that he is on the other side of the war.

And it is in this instant that Chanyeol understands what his father meant all along.

 _When you fight, sometimes you fight against yourself_. And it is true, Chanyeol does not want to lose but he does not think he will be happy if he wins.

The alarm sounds again, this time, it is louder and more bleeping. But the rebel ignores. “Chanyeol,” his voice tries to reach out to him and Chanyeol would have allowed himself to be reached.

But the door opens again, a little violently. The back part of the doors hits the wall hard with a loud thud. Soon, Chanyeol hears a gunshot. _Too close_. And the next thing he knows is Baekhyun grunting in pain, plopped down on the cold floor, bleeding red in his left shoulder.

“Baek –” Chanyeol _almost_ comes to him.

“Come on!” Lu Han shouts from outside. “The Silvers are here. Baekhyun gave us away. We have no time!” There is a strong urgency in his voice that makes Chanyeol stands up.

“No!” Baekhyun groans, holding his bleeding shoulder. “Traitor! You sold us to the Silvers. Chanyeol, please. Believe me. Alert the other generals and go through the last exit door and always turn right. Don’t follow him!” The rebel grunts in pain but Chanyeol still hears his insistence.

For a moment, Chanyeol just stands still, looking at the rebel and trying to silence his thoughts. But another shot is fired coming from Lu Han’s gun. Baekhyun screams in pain as the bullet buries itself in his stomach.

“Chanyeol, come on!” Lu Han shouts again. “We don’t have time! I have the activation code. Yixing will meet us outside. Come on!”

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun is wailing now. Begging and pleading for him to believe. In every word, the rebel spits blood. “I am sorry for your family. But believe me, I didn’t know. No one told me that your family is there. I am not the traitor here.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Lu Han warns. He goes inside, standing beside Chanyeol. “Liar.”

“Please, Yeol. Listen. It was Lu Han’s fault –”

Lu Han shoots him again, this time in his legs and Baekhyun grunts painfully, heaving laborious breaths. “Fuck!”

Chanyeol cannot think anymore, his lungs constricting in pain, tears streaming hard and he has to wipe his face so he could see clearly. His sobs are loud and tedious. Baekhyun bleeding in front of him, crying and begging and grunting is the worst sight to see but Chanyeol does not have the heart to look away.

He is about to walk to the rebel when Lu Han grabs him by the hand and they run. They run with the screams of Baekhyun following their trail and Chanyeol’s steps become heavy, his breathing is heavy, his heart is heavy as he runs away. Away from Baekhyun.

When they exit the building, Chanyeol’s nightmares come to life. His suspicions are confirmed when he sees Minseok, Joonmyeon, Jongdae, and Jongin being held by the Silvers at the back. Guns pointed at their heads.

“Hyung!” Jongin shouts in between his wailing, voice torn and broken and raspy. “Hyung! Get out of here!”

“It’s true!” Jongdae screams after. “Lu Han sold us to the New World!”

And the moment Chanyeol wants to run back to where Baekhyun is, he does. But it is too late. Because in the instant that he turns around, the Silvers lining up in front of the Rebel’s headquarters fire their guns and Chanyeol is showered by the metalling bullets, hitting him in the leg, in the back, and in his arms. He falls, face first on the snow.

“Chaaaaaanyeoooooooool!!!” Chanyeol hears the most horrific scream yet his swirling mind fails to identify the voice.

Soon after, another loud gunshot echoes but Chanyeol does not feel any addition to his body and his heart drops at the realization that the bullet fired is for _one of them_. One of the generals.

It is in this moment that Chanyeol has long accepted that there are so many things he does not know. That sometimes, instinct will be your edge to survival.

_Why does he trust Baekhyun?_

_Why does Baekhyun care?_

_Why does he feel safe with Baekhyun?_

_Why does he want Baekhyun?_

_Why does he want to return Baekhyun’s ‘I love you’?_

Because all along, his instinct has been telling him the right thing. Baekhyun has been right.

“General Byun Baekhyun is still inside. The generals all yours,” Chanyeol hears Lu Han speaking, addressing the Silvers. “As for General Park, he could be our first Riddance Experiment Sample unless he gives us the other documents we need.”

The last thing Chanyeol sees in his mind is Byun Baekhyun softly smiling at him. He sees their shared kisses and touches. He sees the rebel’s laughter and his flustered cheeks. The last thing Chanyeol sees before he loses consciousness is Byun Baekhyun.

 _I’m sorry, Baekhyun_.

 

***

 

**THE CONSPIRACY**

“Traitor,” Chanyeol spits the word like it is bane in his mouth.

It has been three days since his captivity and about six hours since he awoke. The bullets in his body are removed but the cruelty of the Silvers remains. No one dared stitching him up. His wrists are manacled by silver cuffs and they tightly hug his skin. It is so tight that Chanyeol’s hands feel cold and dead.

“I tried, Chanyeol,” Lu Han replies, leaning back on his chair as he eyes him with something akin to pity. Chanyeol is severely disgusted by it. “I tried letting you choose the winning side.”

Chanyeol spits again. This time, with much force it hits Lu Han’s foot. “How can you live a double life like this?”

Seemingly offended, Lu Han stands up and gives him a good punch in the face. Chanyeol holds himself so Lu Han cannot have his satisfaction of seeing and hearing him hurt but his lips let out a strong grunt, his neck craning and cracking as he forcefully face his side. It hurts just to look at Lu Han straight in the eyes.

“I’m not a bad person, Chanyeol.”

“Says who?” Chanyeol counters quickly. If anything, Lu Han’s irritation is his consolation.

“Tell me where the documents are and we can end this. I have the NSD blueprint and the activation code but where did Baekhyun hid the other files your father gave you?”

“What more could I ask for? My family is dead. Baekhyun is dead. You don’t have anything to bargain.”

Lu Han sighs, more exhausted than annoyed. “Fine. Have it your way then.” He stands up, walking to the door. “Congratulations for being the pioneer sample of the New World’s Riddance Experiment. Don’t blame me, Chanyeol. Up to this point, I tried letting you choose the winning side. But you’re just like the rebels. You can’t be the hero of the story we are trying to write.”

Though everything about Chanyeol is hurting, he is still quick to counter Lu Han’s words. “History has its eyes on us,” he alludes. “I can’t be part of such shame.”

The soft thud of the door closing is Lu Han’s response.

Chanyeol is left alone again and instead of feeling peace, his own mind replaces Lu Han for another wave of torture. He is responsible for Baekhyun’s death. He is responsible for the death of Baekhyun’s family. What difference does he make from the people he loathes?

 _We are also guilty of the things we hate_ , Baekhyun’s words echo in him, haunting him like a ghost.

Forever. Chanyeol starts to accept. The memories of his family and Baekhyun will haunt him forever even if his will is taken away from him. Their faces and their smiles will forever be in his mind, even the New World and Riddance will not be able to take them away.

“I deserve this,” Chanyeol speaks. Out loud. Because he knows deep down that there is no escaping in the hands of the Silvers. There is nothing left to do but to surrender and accept.

And acceptance is what hurts Chanyeol the most. Acceptance that his father _had_ been right. This is a war they cannot win. Acceptance that Baekhyun _had_ been right. Lu Han is the one selling them to the New World and that his intentions to Chanyeol are pure.

Baekhyun has always been apologizing to him. It is only now that he understands why. So he speaks again, amidst his aching throat. “I deserve this.”

“No, you don’t.”

Chanyeol does not hear the door opening, nor someone walking to him. But when he glances up he sees Kyungsoo looking down at him. Black from his hat to his polished shoes. The anger in Chanyeol’s chest flares up again, heat crawling to his eyes.

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says like his name is a curse. “Just what I expected to see. Another traitor.”

Kyungsoo gives him a soft look, lips tugging in _regret_. “Your friend was not a traitor.”

“Lu Han?” Chanyeol scoffs, almost laughing. “What do you need?”

“No. Your friend, Kyungsoo. He was never a traitor.”

“What the fuck are you saying, Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol spits, bile rising in his throat. Kyungsoo speaks like he is not him. Kyungsoo looks like he is not him.

“It is not your time yet so it will be a futile attempt to explain how I came to be. I have delivered Do Kyungsoo on the other side even before you came to the Reds.” Kyungsoo stands up before him, wanting to reach out and Chanyeol shivers horrifyingly. Kyungsoo’s presence is so otherworldly and so are his words.

_I have delivered Do Kyungsoo on the other side even before you came to the Reds._

“I want to help you,” Kyungsoo speaks again, tone soft but his voice is cold. _Lifeless._ “But I am bound by the nature of my work. I am not tasked to meddle with the mortals.”

“Who are you?”

“Soon,” Kyungsoo tries to smile. “You’ll understand.”

“Are you a Silver now?” Chanyeol queries, hope flickering a little.

“I am neither a Silver nor a Red.”

Chanyeol sighs exasperatedly. Everything he says feels like a puzzle to build. So he lets out a question that sends shivers down his spine. “Kyungsoo I mean. The real Kyungsoo. Is he… Was he a Silver?”

“He did not betray your color. He was at the wrong place at a wrong time. He bears the document your enemies wanted.”

“So Baekhyun was right?” Chanyeol says, mostly to himself. “Was it Lu Han who… the reason why Kyungsoo is dead now?”

Kyungsoo smiles sadly and he almost looks mundane, the way he should be. “Yes. This may be considered cheating in my line of work but… I think you deserve to know. Byun Baekhyun is my favourite human. He escaped me more than any typical humans could.”

Chanyeol does not know where he is heading to but he feels listening so he shuts his mouth.

“The only time he handed himself to me was when your other friend, Lu Han, shot him thrice,” Kyungsoo walks, pacing side to side. “That is one of the happiest moment for me – _if I ever know such feeling_. Because finally, I know he will leave this wretched place. But something he said made me do otherwise. I almost prayed for him to live.”

Chanyeol is late to realize that tears are streaming his face. _It was my fault Baekhyun died_ , he screams at himself loudly, but he knows he is the only one to hear.

“ _Let Chanyeol be okay_ . He said that a number of times before his color change to red. Byun Baekhyun’s intentions to you are true. I watched it. I watched _him_. The only mistake he did against you was to kill your family but it is also true that he didn’t know. Lu Han didn’t tell him anything. Baekhyun loved you.”

Chanyeol huffs a little loudly, glancing up at Kyungsoo again. His own eyes are nothing but pure hatred to himself because his heart believes everything _Kyungsoo_ is saying. He brought Baekhyun’s downfall. Lu Han was the one who shot him but Chanyeol is the real murderer. He could have saved Baekhyun but he did not. He is a failure in all aspect. He failed the people who loved him. _His family, and now it’s Baekhyun_.

 _I deserve to die_ , Chanyeol repeats again. As if that is the only way to endure all the pain and the guilt and the shame of his sins. Of both knowing and not knowing too much.

But amidst his self-loathing Kyungsoo just smiles at him again – and Chanyeol does not deserve that too, the kindest of acts like this _smile_. Kyungsoo walks to the wall on his right and leans in. His eyes never leave Chanyeol’s face.

Feeling very uncomfortable, Chanyeol clears his throat once more, sniffing his tears away and killing the sobs that want to escape his lips. “What are you doing here? What do you want from me?”

“I am waiting for your other friend.”

“What?” Chanyeol asks as his eyes widen in shock and in fear. He pieces everything together and shivers yet again. If it is true that the Kyungsoo before him is not the Kyungsoo they knew, then he is here for one thing, _for another life_. He remembers seeing him in the moments where there are deaths. That day a Silver died in his party. That day his family was bombed. That day where Silvers attacked the city. “Who is it? Who is it this time?”

“Blame the humans for my very busy schedule.” Kyungsoo shrugs, fishing out a card and a golden pocket watch from his jacket.

Then the door opens, creaking a little at first before swinging open. Yixing runs to him and Chanyeol does not fail to recognize that he does not notice Kyungsoo’s presence in the room. _It’s him_.

“What are you doing here?” Chanyeol asks with a tone of concern and not of loathe. “Get out of here!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Chanyeol. I should’ve known,” Yixing crouches down to hold his face. “I thought Lu Han is just switching sides to save you and me. And his family. I have lost faith in the Order. I thought the New World will give us what we want. But this is getting too much.”

“Get out of here!” Chanyeol shouts and he hopes that his friend will not mistake it for his anger. He will die. Right here.

“No! I will not leave you here so you could be a lab rat!” Yixing shouts back, producing a key from his pocket then reaching to Chanyeol’s manacles.

“Look, listen! Leave now,” Chanyeol panics.

But the blood spluttering in his face is another proof that he failed. As a person, as a friend. And it is a mistake that Chanyeol looks at Yixing in the eyes because it is another addition to the things that will hunt him forever. Yixing’s eyes flash glimpses of guilt and hope before it turns cold.

Yixing’s body goes limp before leaning to him, his bleeding head hitting Chanyeol’s shoulder. Then another gunshot is fired then another then another. Chanyeol is supposed to be dead but Yixing’s shields him from all those. The biting pain is growing together with the black void eating his insides. Leaving him with nothing but pain and guilt. Chanyeol wails again, loudly this time like a scared child that has been abandoned.

“Traitors have no place in this world,” Chanyeol hears Lu Han speak before he walks to them.

Lu Han holds Yixing’s shoulder and pulls him away from Chanyeol. He pulls him like he never knew him. Like they were never friends. Chanyeol wants to throw up at the sight. Yixing’s eyes _were_ open and glassy, mouth gaping in shock. His body falls hard on the cold floor.

“Damn you, Lu Han!” Chanyeol curses out loud, repelled at the man standing in front of him. He is not the Lu Han he knows. Where is that man of honor? That man who fights for noble causes? What did the war do to him? Feeling suffocated at his thoughts, he voices out one question. “Was it you? Was it also you who killed Sehun?”

Lu Han just gives him a cold look while securing a big syringe on his hold. “Sehun believes in Baekhyun more than in me. I don’t need people like that in my life.”

Chanyeol feels electricity biting his neck as Lu Han injects the liquid in his system. He could tell that the liquid is so thick and so reviling because he can feel his veins constricting and his throat drying, his tongue tastes like rubber in his throat. His eyes water more, hot tears that become so unbearable he feels like he is being blinded. His heart beats in abnormal pace, thumping faster before thudding slower and slower that Chanyeol thinks it will stop. But at the last moment, will race again very quickly.

“What are you doing?” Chanyeol chokes at his own words, he can feel something oozing from the sides of his mouth, his ears, and his eyes. It is so thick Chanyeol thinks it is his own blood.

“ _Riddance_.”

Upon hearing the word, Chanyeol closes his eyes. For good. Because he knows, the next time he will open his eyes, he is not _him_ anymore. He will not be _his own_ anymore but _something_ that is owned by the Silvers. So at the last moments of his life, he gathers his strength to resurface all the memories he has shared with Baekhyun with only six words in his head to narrate the scenes:

 _I’m sorry Baekhyun. I love you_.

 

*****

 

 **THE RUINS** _(THE REAL DEAL ABOUT DO KYUNGSOO)_

_SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA_

_Day 11 of the New World; 14:17 PM_

“Meet me in 6th street at exactly three in the afternoon. Usual café. It’s urgent.”

“Why? I have to go back to the headquarters now,” Kyungsoo speaks in his phone, his voice low and careful. He irritates himself because he is not able to speak normally to voice out his annoyance at General Lu Han.

“Tell me the names of the Second Generation.”

“What? I will meet you in the headquarters in no time.”

“Just tell me. If ever circumstances happen and we lost the papers, we still have records.”

“Fine. Byun Baekbom and his father, General Park, General –”

“General Park? As in Chanyeol’s father?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Meet me in 6th Street. I’ll be waiting.”

Lu Han ends the phone call right then and there and it just strengthens Kyungsoo’s suspicions. He is really up to something.

“What else could it be? We have to evacuate to the nearest and safest country before this month ends.”

Kyungsoo overhears two people talking in front of him. Fear and contempt are evident in her voice. He whizzes his way past them to get to the café in no time. Kyungsoo walks with all vigilance. Though his head is down, his eyes are alert and his ears are sharp.

“At this point in time, there is no place safe. Unless you get marked.”

“No way! I’d rather die than live in the New World. They are just creating another dystopian society and–”

There was an explosion and Kyungsoo finds himself flying to the other side of the street. His head shatters the window pane of the coffee shop but he all he hears is a deafening silence before he collapses on the ground, his face hitting the concrete road, hard. It takes him a moment to regain his senses and awake to the reality of what is happening.

Another bomb has been dropped.

People run like rats, fleeing to their hiding place to save their lives. Jets hover over the sky like birds flying in their playground.

Kyungsoo lays on the pavement, an arm twisted in a bad angle. He feels something sticky oozing in his lips, then on the side of his head. A bubble of lump forms on his temple and it thrums excruciatingly. His back throbs with painful dull ache as glass shards pierce through it, wrecking both his clothes and the flesh beneath.

“He-help. Please, somebody.” Understanding that it is a futile attempt, he still cries. Reaching out to any feet running to and fro before his eyes, trying to ignore the pain from his twisted arm. There are people who stumbled over him, some stepped on his fingers as they desperately cry for help.

He is almost knocked out when a man, cloaked in dark robes, approaches him. His face is hidden underneath hood and he looks indifferent at the chaos around him.

“Help,” He repeats, gathering all his strength to look up and see the man in front of him.

“I’m sorry, child.” Kyungsoo hears him, loud and clear amidst the shouts, as if the man’s voice echoes inside his head. “Do Kyungsoo. I need you.”

His breath is beginning to hitch as he felt his heart slowly thumping painfully in his chest. Every beat rings in his ears. His eyes are almost closed as air starts to leave his body. The stabs of coldness creep up on his skin, traversing in his veins.

A golden pocket watch appears before his eyes, swinging side to side. Kyungsoo hears a ticking sound before everything goes red. He did not know whether it was because of the blood blinding his vision or something more. But with a sheer terror, Kyungsoo realizes that a blood can never be as a bright as this one.

“Time is up.”

 

*

 

Kyungsoo stands before everyone, eyeing the dead people on the street, the children wailing and looking for their mothers, and the wounded trying to go to a safer place. The scene before him is nothing but a dominant bright red with some streaks of faint green.

 _What is a safer place?_ Kyungsoo asks himself. He sees them and witnesses another tragedy but not as a typical human would.

He sighs. “Time to work.”

 

***

 

 **THE WORLD** _(In his eyes)_

**Colors.**

    But black and white are not at the ends of the spectrum.

    They are _Green_ and _Red_.

    _Just_ Green and Red.

Please, let me explain further. Do not ridicule me for knowing just Green and Red. Forgive me – but they are the only colors I see – or at the very least, the colors _I need to see_. The nature of my work blinds me from all other shades. The other colors are not as essential.

Going back to Green and Red. Here is, let us say, the mechanics:

It is always that Spectrum of Green – dark green to faint green – for the _living_.

And a Spectrum of Red – wait, no. Scratch that. Red is no spectrum. Red is red no matter how faint or bright. If Green flickers to Red, then that is _my signal_.

I understand your confusion or _maybe_ that anger, but believe me: I do not change the colors _._

But who am _I_ anyway?

Sorry for the lack of my manners, but in my own humble opinion, I do not deem myself necessary in the story I am going to tell. But, of course, for the sake of transparency and better understanding of things, allow me to introduce myself.

Bothersome as it may be to hear, but I am grateful for the first man who ate the fruit as it granted me entrance in the world. I cannot say the same thing now, however.

Over the centuries, my work becomes more tedious. _Monotonous_. You can’t imagine how suffocating things can be, knowing that there will never be someone to replace me. Add to that fact that most – if not _all_ humans blame me for their regrets. They should blame – or at least _try to_ _ask_ Time. Although, Time and I were never friends. Just co-workers who maintain civility with and a great distance from one another. I keep asking for a vacation but Time seems to have other plans.

Believe it or not, I always try to be cheery and friendly about things especially concerning me and the humans – which is almost everything. Therefore, to say that ‘ _You are going to die_ is a fact’ is an understatement and will just add insult to the injury. _Especially to those who live their lives to fullest_ – (and I am hoping you can note the sarcasm). So let me introduce a new one;

First of all the facts: **_Humans never learn_ ** **.**

I am here for the boy who amused me so much as he escaped me so many times than a typical human could. But I am also here to express my disappointment in humanity. You never learn.

Here is the thing:

Green turns to Red from time to time and I would speak in all honesty – I may not feel nor understand the intensity and vastness of human emotions but I feel remorse as a weightless shadow hangs on my shoulder and ready to be delivered on the other side.

And since I am speaking in all honesty, I must admit that it is rather a frustrating feeling for me if the colors change otherwise: Red turns to Green.

Frustrating. Yes, I used that word but these exceptionally talented and strong-willed boys is far from that word. Very far. In fact, they somehow debunk my negative, pre-conceived notions of humanity.

He amuses me to the extent that I was too attracted to watch over him but I struggle not to get near lest his soul be attracted to my energy and the color change. But _humanity_ , with their greed and pride and distorted concept of peace, always brings me back to _him_.

 _Byun Baekhyun_.

So, I borrowed a body and I made sure to remember his name. _Do Kyungsoo_. I have transported back his soul on the other side. I will also make sure to tell his friends he has been long gone when the time is right.

Thus, for now, please, address me using his name.

One of the small facts: _The war is not over yet_.

There is this one thing that keeps him alive, that keeps him sane, and hopeful that life has much more to offer than bombs and tanks and guns and _me_. I heard them talking about it, what’s it again?

Ah. **_Love_ **.

Have you read my story about the Book Thief? I miss that little girl who went by the name of Liesel Meminger. I was on Germany, then.

Humans believed it was the Second World War, but let me tell you this: That is not the second war that this world has witnessed. This time is no different. They thought the Third World War has ended.

However, there _were_ more wars and there will be more. As long as humanity sensationalize their differences and uniqueness and glorifies a race supremacy. There will always be war.

But right now, it was the Singer Byun Baekhyun that I miss. So much. We crossed each other on four occasions:

  * The murder of his family
  * The last bomb dropped
  * The betrayal of his friend



I found him in one of the rooms in the Resistance Order’s Headquarters. He was losing too much blood and tears as he lays on the cold floor, curled in a ball. He looks so small and fragile and I hear him whispering one prayer. _Let Chanyeol be okay. Let Chanyeol be okay. Let Chanyeol be okay._

Until his eyes closes and his breathing stops. I only heard one name. _Chanyeol_.

I wish I could do something, but the Green turning to Red outline that flickers around his body is clear. I wish I could say, I’m sorry. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I am not as cruel as all of you think but let me remind you that I am bound by the nature of my work.

The best thing I could do now is to watch his lover as he becomes who he is out of his will. His warm eyes have turned silver and he will not function unless he is told to do so. His broad frame has dwindled because he does not eat and his gunshot wounds have not healed. Violet bruises are painted across his body, his shoulders are sagged and his arms are limp.

People laugh at him because they thinks he is funny. A human robot walking and following orders as if he is nothing but a mechanical toy.

There are so many things I wish as I visit Park Chanyeol from time to time but none of it is greater than this: I wish he had enough time to read Byun Baekhyun’s letters so he would understand that the only thing that Baekhyun did against him is to accidentally bomb Chopper PC 6104. So he would know that Baekhyun has loved and waited for him more than the days he mourns the loss of his family.

Chanyeol does not know anything because the Silvers also stole his memory. Baekhyun does not know that Chanyeol has been the first one to be injected by this NSD. And I don’t know what is worse.

But there is one thing I know for sure: The New World is happy. And I cannot stress enough how much I lament what humanity has become over the years.

Another fact: **_You keep getting worse_ **.

Park Chanyeol is right and I will make sure of it. Hate will have a much higher price.

 

*****

_END_

 

 

[1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878642/chapters/31930317) / 2

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author's note:** This entry has heard more ‘I don’t want to do this anymore’, ‘I can’t feel my characters’, ‘This is so cliché and mediocre’, ‘There are just so many plot holes’, ‘I should quit’. But I made it, right? I made it and I’m happy. I am very happy.
> 
> To Pauline Eonnie, I love you so much! Thank you for being there when writer’s block hit me so hard. I appreciate your advice and encouragement and the way you will uplift me when all I do is to self-pity and self-doubt. Truly a blessing from God that I have you as my beta! I couldn’t ask for more. I love you!
> 
> To the prompter, I hope I did well in adopting your little baby. Thank you so much for such liberty you gave me to let it grow into something like this. Since this is a 2016 prompt, I wish you know that your beautiful prompt is claimed and that you can find time to read this baby.
> 
> To the mods, I know I am very late in submitting my entry and had sent a multiple file (I’m really sorry about it) so I thank you for your patience and encouragement. Thank you for allowing me to showcase my talent through this fest. You and this festival mean so much to me. Lots of love!
> 
> To God, another opportunity to write and to showcase the talent You gave us. Thank You so much. This is for You!
> 
> I hope I was able to concretize the things I have realized in my life, the things I have learned from my Dad and from my friends, and the things I have observed whenever hate would overpower love. I hope I did well in this fiction.


End file.
